The Bartowskis vs Spy Family Life
by verkisto
Summary: The Bartowski house was a normal family home. Normal, that is, for a family of super secret agents! Snapshot future-ficlets of suburban life.
1. Report Card Day

"Look what I found on my way here."

Sarah had poked her head from the kitchen into the back breezeway when she heard a commotion building. It was a combination of kids' squeals and shoes bouncing off the door frame followed by the screen door banging shut and the family dog barking his fool head off as he jumped straight into the air and backwards, scrabbling his claws on the kitchen floor tiles to try to stay on his feet.

Sarah moved to make way for the circus that had entered the Bartowski household.

"Casey, I think you're the biggest kid of them all," she said, hands on hips as she smiled with more than a slight maternal air.

"What?"

Casey paused, standing just inside the kitchen doorway, feet wide apart, the three Bartowski children hanging off of him and giggling. The twins, Chuck and John, were each holding on to a bulging forearm, and the little one, Lisa, clung to his neck, peeking over the big man's shoulder, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

The dog was still doing his best to join in the fun, yapping and jumping until Sarah silenced him with a sharp, "Flash! _Sitz_!"

She turned away to the counter. "Milk and cookies, guys?"

There were high-pitched yells of "Yeah!" and "You bet!" and Thanks, mom!" and the bass addition of "Chocolate chip?" as Sarah opened the fridge door to take out the milk.

"Hands! Wash! Now! Everybody!" she called out. "You too, Casey. I don't know where you've been."

By the time the four had splashed water all over the sink in the downstairs bathroom and had somehow managed to wash and dry their hands, Sarah had set out a large plate of Tollhouse cookies, six glasses and a jug of milk on the table.

Right on time, Chuck came through the front door, loosening his tie and calling out, "Sarah, honey, I'm home!"

Sarah ran to the front of the house and held out her arms to her husband, reveling in the excitement it still gave her to see him, even after ten years of marriage, three kids, a mortgage, a large extended family – including her permanent inter-agency partner/neighbor – and one very excitable dog.

"What did you do on your day off?" Chuck inquired, dipping his head to nibble on Sarah's neck.

"The kids are home and Casey is here. Stop that," Sarah said, not really wanting him to.

"Well, they're getting old enough to learn about sex by now, aren't they? And I'd be surprised if Casey hasn't dropped a bomb or two in his own inimitable fashion," Chuck observed. He raised his head, brown eyes hooded, and found Sarah's lips, almost causing her to lose her resolve.

The sound of Casey clearing his throat theatrically nearby did the trick.

"Cookie, not nookie," he said dryly and turned to go into the kitchen.

When Chuck and Sarah joined them, laughing quietly and looking into each other's eyes with an unspoken promise, the children and Casey were already seated around the table and Casey was showing them how to dunk their cookies into the milk by alternately dunking into each child's glass. This was apparently hilarious and they laughed and screeched, "Uncle Johnny! No! Get Lisa's!"

Chuck and Sarah sat down, poured themselves some milk and each bit into a cookie.

Casey, deciding it was time to be serious, took on a stern look and told the children, "Come on, now, we're at the table, don't forget your manners."

Little Lisa was having a hard time calming down, however, and Sarah and Chuck could guess why. Casey's free hand, not visible, was most likely tickling the unfortunate six-year-old, who was still squirming and laughing in her chair, milk running down her chin from the sopping cookie held in her mouth as she tried to defend herself from her godfather's attack.

Chuck, more curious than wanting to dampen their good spirits, casually mentioned, "Isn't today report card day?"

Casey stopped his tickling as the three children, looking suddenly sullen, chorused, "Yes, dad."

"Well, let's see them, then," Sarah said, holding out a hand.

The children scrambled off of their chairs and went into the breezeway where they had dumped their knapsacks to the floor from the great height of Mount UncleJohn and came back, each with a medium-sized manila envelope, handing them to Sarah before resuming their places at the table.

Sarah pulled the three reports out of their envelopes and arranged them in order of age, first young Chuck's, then young John's, then Lisa's. Opening them up one by one, she read them in turn and passed them on to her husband, who read them and passed them on to their friend and honorary family member.

The children waited with looks of dread on their faces, staring at the tabletop and stealing small bites of their cookies.

Finally, Sarah's face lit up in a brilliant smile that was reflected back to her by every face in the room.

"You've all done really well. John, an 'A' in Small Weapons! See what happens when you listen to Uncle Johnny? And Lisa, 'A+' both in Ciphers and Computer Hacking! I think you're taking after your father, who is brilliant, by the way."

Turning to her other son, who was the elder twin by three minutes, she said, "Chuck, I'm especially proud of you. An 'A' in Economics of World Domination! That's a tough course. You know, your Uncle Johnny had to take that one twice."

"Thanks for reminding me, Walker," the big man growled through a half grin, taking the opportunity to snag another cookie.

The paterfamilias puffed out his chest proudly, saying, "And all good marks in Hand-To-Hand Combat. You kids are just great! I think you deserve a movie and a pizza. What do you say, mother?"

"No olives!" yelled little Lisa, flinging her hands into the air and laughing as Flash began to bark and jump again at all the noise.

After the milk was put away and the remainder of the cookies placed into the cookie jar, the group of six filed out the front door. When they were on the porch, Casey reached down and scooped Lisa up into the air, settling her into the crook of his arm and smiling broadly when she kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

"I did good, didn't I, Uncle Johnny?" she asked, fishing for his approval.

"You sure did, sweet pea," he whispered back, his hand cupping her ear. He continued whispering for another moment, and when they were all standing on the driveway about to get into the compact SUV waiting there, Lisa announced loudly, "Dad, Uncle Johnny says if I'm anything like mom, I'm going to do great in Infiltration and Inducement of Enemy Personnel."

When this declaration met with a surprised silence, the confused girl asked, "What's that, dad?" as Chuck shot Sarah a _What-did-I-tell-you?_ glare.


	2. Lisa's First Crush

"Ilsa, great to see you again!" exclaimed Chuck, extending his arms to hug the French agent. He drew back, keeping hold on her elbows, and asked, "Is it still Ilsa?"

"I think that would be the easiest. Besides, Casey likes to call me that," the dark-haired woman replied, finishing her statement off with a Russian accent and turning her head to look up and smile seductively at the tall agent who was gazing back at her with a bit of a predatory look in his eyes.

"Well, come right in, Ilsa. Let me take your coat," Sarah offered after she moved up for her own hug.

"Come on in and meet the family," Casey said, directing Ilsa towards the living room with a familiar hand low on her back. Ilsa smiled to herself as she felt his palm slipping a bit lower than was publicly acceptable and she reached around to circle his wrist with her fingers, moving it higher up again after he had had the chance to get a good feel.

When the four were standing inside the room, Casey introduced the newest Bartowskis in turn.

"Ilsa, these rascals are Chuck and John and the baby here is Lisa. The dog barking outside is Flash. You'll meet him later."

Ilsa immediately crouched down to get to six-year-old height and reached out to grasp little Lisa's hands in hers, saying, "Oh, I'm so glad to meet you finally. Casey has told me so much about you all and –"

Lisa, who had allowed her hands to be taken, suddenly stamped her foot and, face as dark as a thundercloud, shouted out, "I hate you, I hate you!" before running out of the room sobbing.

Chuck looked at Sarah with a questioning expression that she answered with a shrug before she turned to follow their youngest upstairs, leaving Chuck to arrange for drinks and set out the appetizers to get the dinner party started.

Sarah approached Lisa's bedroom door shortly after it had been slammed shut and knocked loudly enough to be heard over the pitiful sobs that reached her ears. This wasn't like Lisa at all. When confronted with a challenge, she usually took on her mother's determined terrier face and hurled herself headlong into the thick of things. Running away and crying was something new for Sarah to deal with and she wasn't quite sure she knew how to go about it.

Opening the door, Sarah came in to find Lisa lying face-down on her bed with her arms covering the sides of her face. Her sobbing abated somewhat when Sarah sat on the edge of the bed, cooing soft motherly sounds and pulling the little girl up beside her in a comforting embrace.

Some kind of instinct seemed to take over and, much to Sarah's surprise, she found that holding her daughter and rhythmically smoothing her hair while murmuring nonsense seemed to do the trick. When Lisa had stopped crying with a loud hiccup, Sarah pulled back to look into the girl's tear-stained and reddened face.

"Tell me," Sarah said gently and waited.

"Uncle Johnny," Lisa choked out and hiccupped again.

"What about Uncle Johnny, sweetheart?" Sarah prompted.

"Uncle Johnny was supposed to marry me, not Ilsa!"

Sarah used all of her agent's training to prevent her mouth from curling up into a smile.

"But Uncle Johnny isn't going to marry Ilsa. Why do you think he was going to marry you, Lisa?" she asked, her heart going out to the little girl at the sight of her crushed expression.

"Because – because – because he loves me! He told me so!" Lisa said, raising her voice in indignation and slamming her fist onto the mattress.

"Well, of course he loves you, baby, we all do. But that doesn't mean he's going to marry you."

"Then I'll never get married!" Lisa wailed, flinging her arms around Sarah's neck and beginning to sob again, pulling great gasps of air in through her mouth and trembling violently.

Sarah had no idea her little girl was this far gone. She was secretly glad that Casey was definitely not a contender for Lisa's affections, although she would have liked to have seen Chuck's face right now. She soothed a bit more, running her hand over Lisa's back until the girl quieted again.

"You will get married or you won't, my love. You'll find someone or you won't. Either way, it doesn't matter to me or your dad or your brothers or even Uncle Johnny. We'll always be here to love you just the same."

Sarah made Lisa look into her eyes. "Do you believe me, baby?"

Sniffling, Lisa replied, "Yes, momma."

After she had swiped at her running nose with the back of a hand, she raised her eyes again to her mother's and, taking on a defiant and challenging look, said, "And I'm not a baby anymore. You tell Uncle Johnny that too."

Laughing lightly, Sarah replied, "Okay, honey, I'll tell him. Now let's get you cleaned up and go back downstairs to the party, hmm?"

* * *

When they came back into the living room, Lisa went over to Ilsa, who was sitting on the couch, and apologized for her rude behavior. Pulling herself up beside the agent, she took Ilsa's hand and carefully pointed out that their names used the same letters only in a different order and Lisa was learning to speak Mandarin. Did Ilsa know how to speak Mandarin? Just English and French and Russian and Italian and Spanish and Portuguese? That was too bad. Ilsa would really have to learn Mandarin to be a proper spy.

They spent about ten more minutes conferring quietly, exchanging pointers on hair clips and makeup, the best kind of concealed holster to use with an evening dress and how to take out five hostiles as quickly as possible on a school playground. Casey looked on with pride at his two girls, nodding thanks to Ilsa when he caught her eye and thinking about a half dozen ways to thank her a little more thoroughly later when they were alone.

Just before they were to go into the dining room to begin eating supper, Lisa moved even closer to their guest and lowered her voice so only Ilsa could hear, speaking clearly and carefully so her message could not be mistaken.

"You'll look out for Uncle Johnny, won't you? He's a man and momma says men need a lot of looking after. I'll do what I can from here but I'm counting on you to help me out."

After Ilsa solemnly promised to look after her Uncle Johnny, Lisa added, "We women have to stick together, don't we, Auntie Ilsa?"


	3. Two Bedrooms

Chuck and Sarah climbed the stairs to their room after seeing Ilsa and Casey out the front door. It had been a long day for Chuck, what with work and the dinner party and seeing Ilsa again after all this time, and he leaned back against the bedroom door after closing it quietly so he wouldn't wake the children. He sighed before giving Sarah his forlorn little boy look, hoping to get some attention from his beautiful wife.

Sarah was tired too but she recognized the look and walked to her husband to embrace him, pulling his head down to rest it on her shoulder and comforting him by pressing her body close to his and holding him securely with her arms around his back. She ran the heels of her hands up and down firmly on either side of his spine in the small of his back to ease the tension there and walked him backwards towards their bed, making a half-turn so they could sit side-by-side on the edge.

They kissed briefly then pulled apart, smiling at each other the way best friends do, and sat holding one another's hands for a minute before Chuck began to speak.

"You know, when I finally decided to sign on with the agency, I didn't know it would be mostly a desk job. And as much as our missions were a little too exciting sometimes, I feel like I should still be out there with you and Casey, not sitting in a secure office going over data that you've collected and flashing all day. I'm supposed to be the mobile Intersect but I'm hardly mobile anymore."

"The good news is," Sarah said, giving Chuck a conciliatory look and reaching up to caress the back of his neck, "at least the NSA doesn't want to kill you anymore."

"Yes, there is that," Chuck admitted, "although I think the CIA is still with the plan, just using a different method. They're going to bore me to death."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to find your excitement elsewhere, then," Sarah purred, tugging Chuck's shirttails loose from his pants.

As they began to kiss again, a little more enthusiastically this time, Chuck shifted and pulled Sarah down with him onto the bed where he suddenly moved away and exclaimed, "Wait! Stop! Stop!"

Alarmed, Sarah began to sit up again but Chuck pulled her back down and said, "I've been waiting to tell you and I almost forgot. I got an update today and there was something about Ilsa in it."

Sarah wiggled about a bit in her excitement, almost distracting Chuck from what he was going to say. "What?! Tell me!" she exclaimed as her face lit up in anticipation.

"Ilsa's defected. She's left the DGSE and signed up with the NSA. That means –"

"That she and Casey can finally be together!" Sarah finished for her husband. "Oh, Chuck! How wonderful! And he's waited so long! Does he know yet?"

"He's probably finding out right now," Chuck said, smiling broadly.

He rolled over quickly and flicked off the bedside lamp, then turned back to gaze at Sarah's face, which was bathed in the soft glow from the streetlight that was spilling inside through the open window.

"What else did you see, Intersect?" Sarah asked as she recommenced helping Chuck undress.

"I think you're going to have to torture it out of me, Ms. Secret Agent," he replied and smiled at the low sound of devilish laughter bubbling up from the bed beside him.

* * *

Ilsa wasn't sure they were going to make it all the way next door into Casey's house. Not that she minded so much, but the Neighborhood Association might have something to say about it, so she batted his hands firmly away from prominent parts of her anatomy and ran up the stairs to the front door, standing aside so he could open it and disarm the security system before going in.

Ilsa took a moment to remember their first meeting at that lovely flower market in Rome. Casey thought he had spotted her first but she had never told him that she had had him under surveillance for a good ten minutes before he had seen her. Her first glimpse of him set her heart to pounding. He was so self-possessed and handsome, drifting about from stall to stall charming all the old ladies who were selling flowers.

Finally, Ilsa had walked nonchalantly to the perfect spot to display herself to best advantage. There were buckets of red and pink carnations overflowing behind her, and the afternoon sun, lower to the horizon at that time of year, put her in the most flattering light possible for her coloring. Casey still bought her red and pink carnations whenever she returned to him. After eventually finding out he was an agent too, she decided that their meeting had been the work of a benevolent fate.

When he had finished locking up again and re-activated the alarm system, Casey turned and reached for Ilsa, a low moan conveying his desire as he pressed his lips to hers and tenderly tightened his embrace. One of the things that Ilsa always found exciting about Casey was that he knew what he wanted and wasn't afraid to ask for it, but Ilsa's plans involved his bedroom and not the foyer, so she twisted out of his grasp and ran lightly but quickly up the stairs ahead of him to his room.

She put him off again when they got inside and looked up, holding him at arm's length, commenting, "I always knew you were a lady killer, but poor little Lisa! That's just cruel!"

Casey laughed a bit but then became serious as he replied, "I had no idea that was going on, believe me. I would have put a stop to it if I had."

"And break a little girl's heart? You may be a cold-blooded assassin but you're also my Sugar Bear, you big softy."

Casey groaned at the sound of Ilsa's pet name for him and moved closer to kiss her again, breathing out between kisses, "Ilsa, I'm so glad you're back. This last mission was too long. Almost nine years. When do you go undercover again?"

"It depends on what the NSA decides, my lovely baby, but I've asked for a local assignment. Maybe Chuck can put in a good word for me."

It took Casey a moment to absorb what Ilsa had said and have its meaning register in his brain. When it did, he raised his head from her neck and stared at her, dumbfounded. All he could manage in the way of speech was, "You – you – you –"

Ilsa's delighted laugh at his reaction tinkled in the soft summer breeze coming through the open window.

"Yes, I – I – I was hoping to make an honest man out of you."

Casey swept Ilsa up into the air and spun around in circles, his joyful booming laughter filling the room before he put her down again and, getting down on one knee while holding Ilsa's hands in his, asked, in Russian, "Will you marry me, my love?"

"_Da, moya lyubov_," she replied, then drew him to his feet. They kissed tenderly as Casey reached behind himself to flip off the light switch.

* * *

Chuck and Sarah, lying in their bed in a comfortable embrace, looked towards the bedroom window when they heard Casey's laughter and turned back to look at each other when the light was extinguished a short time later. They smiled and rested their foreheads together as Sarah commented, "I believe she just told him."

Chuck snuggled closer to his wife and said, "Better prepare for a wedding, Mrs. Bartowski."

* * *

_Da, moya lyubov_ – yes, my love


	4. Career Paths

Sarah was busy tidying up the kitchen. It was Saturday morning. The air was bright and clear. The kids were playing outside. Chuck was upstairs puttering around doing something. Sarah could hear him walking back and forth overhead. She smiled with contentment and flicked the switch on the coffee maker to start a fresh pot. They should be over soon.

Just as Chuck was coming down the stairs, the front door opened. "Hi, Ilsa, Casey," he said. "Come into the kitchen. I think Sarah said she was going to make some coffee."

Casey turned and was about to shut the door when a small figure darted in through the opening and ran ahead of them, shouting out, "Hi, Uncle Johnny! Hi, Auntie Ilsa!"

"Hi, honey," Ilsa replied, smiling as the little girl disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

Casey lowered his head so his mouth was level with Ilsa's ear. "Hi, Auntie Ilsa," he repeated in a low, throaty voice.

Ilsa, still smiling, turned her head to give him a brief kiss and whispered back, "Hi, Uncle Johnny," before gazing into his eyes.

Chuck thought for a moment that their guests might just try to make a break for it back to Casey's house, so he briskly herded them into the kitchen where Sarah had set out mugs and spoons and a plate of fresh biscuits with butter and jam. He knew his wife would never forgive him if he let the lovebirds escape, not after what they had surmised the night before.

"I thought you two might not have had breakfast yet," Sarah said, smiling. "Please help yourselves."

As they poured out the coffee and buttered the biscuits, Lisa turned in her chair and tugged on Ilsa's sleeve. "Auntie Ilsa," she said, "may I please have jam on mine?"

Chuck turned to his daughter, a puzzled look on his face. "Why are you calling Ilsa 'Auntie Ilsa,' Lisa? Is it because you call Casey 'Uncle Johnny' even though he's not your real uncle?"

Lisa turned her face towards Chuck, giving her father a withering stare. "No, daddy," she explained patiently, "it's because Uncle Johnny and Auntie Ilsa are getting married. I told momma about it yesterday."

"Lisa!" exclaimed Sarah, then turned to Casey and Ilsa, somewhat embarrassed at her daughter's forthrightness.

"No, no, it's okay, Sarah," Casey said, reassuringly. "Lisa's right. I asked Ilsa to marry me last night and she's agreed."

Chuck laughed at his wife's guilty expression. "Congratulations, you two," he said, standing up and shaking Casey's hand enthusiastically. As he kissed Ilsa on the cheek, he commented, "And I think this big lunk already knows how lucky he is."

Sarah, kissing them both, added, "I know you're both going to be very happy. At least Casey sounded pretty happy last night. We sort of guessed."

"Well, I confess," Chuck said, "I got a tip-off from an Intersect update yesterday that Ilsa was staying, but we didn't know for sure about the engagement until now."

"I knew," Lisa stated nonchalantly as she licked some butter from her finger.

Casey looked at his goddaughter, a speculative look on his face. "Yes, you did, didn't you?" he said. He turned towards Chuck and raised his eyebrows. "Did you tell her about the update, Bartowski?"

Chuck raised his hands into the air in front of himself, palms facing outwards. "No. In fact, I only told Sarah just before we went to bed. Lisa was fast asleep by then."

The four adults looked at each other warily. The silence drew out as Lisa continued to eat her biscuit and drink some milk. Finally, Sarah asked, "Lisa, tell us how you knew, sweetie."

"It was easy, mom," the little girl replied. "When Auntie Ilsa got here yesterday in the taxi, I was looking out the window. Uncle Johnny was kissing her like he wants to be a daddy. That's all."

"I think you should maybe tell us what that means, Lisa," prompted Chuck.

"You know what it means, daddy," Lisa said, giggling. "Uncle Johnny told me that when a man wants a baby he talks the lady into it by being extra special nice. You see, he's got the baby seeds and he has to give them to her to put in her tummy, but she won't take just any old baby seeds, so he has to convince her that his are the best. I could tell Auntie Ilsa thinks Uncle Johnny's baby seeds are the best by the way she kissed him back. So they're going to get married and be a mommy and a daddy."

Lisa turned her innocent face to her parents and asked, "Did you think daddy's baby seeds were the best, momma?"

Sarah darted her eyes towards Casey, who was busy looking out the window and trying not to laugh, before answering, "Yes, honey. We got you and Chuck and John, didn't we?"

Lisa, laughing, said, "Yes. Daddy's got good seeds, I guess. I'm going out to play now. I'm glad you're getting married, Uncle Johnny and Auntie Ilsa. Now you can plant your own seeds, Uncle Johnny, and grow a baby too!"

As Lisa hopped down from her chair and left to go outside, the four adults laughed, and shook their heads.

"Sorry about that, Ilsa," Sarah said. "I didn't know Casey was handing out biology lessons."

Ilsa, who had found the whole scene quite amusing, said, "Not at all, Sarah. I think she's charming. And very bright for such a young girl."

Casey had suddenly gone quiet, and the three turned to him, waiting to find out where his thoughts were taking him.

"She is bright, Sarah, Chuck. Brighter than most adults. Definitely more observant. Imagine what she could do for the agencies."

This statement caused the rest of the agents to become serious. Chuck broke the silence.

"What are you saying, Casey?" he asked, shooting Sarah a worried frown.

"I'm saying maybe she should be tested for possible intensive training, maybe as a profiler. Some kind of analyst, anyway," the man replied.

"But she's only six!" protested Sarah. "Chuck, what about her childhood?"

"Sarah, honey," Chuck said, taking his wife's hands in his, "she's already taking a full course load of spy subjects. And if there is a talent there, maybe it would be better to find out now and develop it."

Ilsa reached over the table and placed her fingers lightly on the concerned mother's arm. "It could keep her away from field work," she said, her eyes showing sympathy for Sarah's distress.

Sarah's face brightened at this thought. "Well, as long as they don't try to make her grow up too fast, then I guess we should go ahead. But if she doesn't like it, it stops, agreed?"

Three heads nodded around the table, all in accord with Sarah's wishes.

"I'll let them know at the office on Monday," Chuck said as they all relaxed their faces into smiles once more. "And, frankly, I'm relieved."

Chuck paused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He took a sip of his coffee before continuing.

"I thought for a minute there she was going to tell us she was psychic."


	5. Dog Walking

Chuck sat at his desk in the secure CIA facility in Downtown Burbank, situated very close to the Buy More Plaza. In fact, if he rolled his chair over to the far end of his office and looked out the window at just the right angle, he could see a corner of the green and yellow sign at the front entrance of the building. Chuck tended to stay away from that corner of his office now.

There was a stack of files waiting for Chuck's perusal or, more correctly, the Intersect's review, but his mind wasn't on his work today. Something was happening with his eldest son, his namesake, Charles Irving Bartowski, Jr., and Chuck couldn't quite figure out what the problem was. It was gnawing at the edge of his consciousness enough to distract him from his work, so rather than do his job badly, Chuck decided to take the afternoon off and see what he could do for his son.

He began the sign-out protocol and sighed. It was a pain having to answer to both the CIA and the NSA as their shared asset. Chuck was on the official books of the CIA listed as an intelligence analyst for policy reasons but there was another more secret record that only a very few people at both agencies knew about that detailed his real function as the Mobile Intersect. And to get mobile right now, he had to contact both sides to tell them what he was up to.

First, he queried the CIA panel that was in charge of his activities. It consisted of three men whose faces Chuck had never seen and never would. He had nicknamed them Huey, Dewey and Louie, which always produced a bright smile when he was looking at them face-to-face, in a manner of speaking – since he couldn't see their shadowed faces – via his communications monitor.

The second contact was General Beckman at the NSA. Still as serious as ever even after all this time, she acknowledged Chuck's request for time off with her usual bad grace. At least by now she knew not to pry into the reasons for personal time. Chuck had firmly established a line between work life and family life when he had signed on with the agencies and made sure to keep it strictly in place.

Not much later, Chuck was in his car and on his way, happy to be able to beat the traffic even if he was going home to deal with a problem.

* * *

Chuck had already been worrying about Chuck, Jr., before Sarah had pointed it out to him. His son was becoming more and more distant each day, the opposite pole to his twin, John, who was becoming more outgoing and social and physically aggressive, which Chuck thought could turn into another problem, but it was one that he didn't have to deal with at the moment. Not when CJ needed some attention.

The twins, who were fraternal, were an odd mixture of Chuck and Sarah. CJ had brown hair like Chuck's but it was straight and wavy like Sarah's. John's hair was wild and curly like Chuck's but blonde like Sarah's. The older twin had all the reserve of his mother while the younger could be annoying at times as he jumped about in everyone's faces, directing all the attention to himself and away from his older, more serious brother. Just like, Chuck thought wryly, he used to behave all the time. Okay, just like he still behaved sometimes.

* * *

Chuck got down on one knee and grabbed Flash's collar so he could hook the leash to it. Once it was securely in place, he stood again and looked around as his eldest son came into the breezeway, his shoulders slumped as he walked towards the door.

"Hi, dad," the boy said without pausing in his journey.

"Hi, son," Chuck replied. "Want to come and walk Flash with me? I could use the company."

CJ turned around and said, diffidently, "Sure, dad," and turned again to push the door open, thumping with all his weight on each foot down the back stairs and onto the lawn.

They walked in silence, Flash pulling on his leash in his excitement, until they got to the park. Finally, Chuck said, "CJ, you haven't been your usual self lately. Anything you want to talk about?"

The young boy paused to kick at a medium-sized stick that was on the ground before answering.

"Aw, dad," he said, "I don't know. It's just been bugging me, I guess."

Chuck motioned to a nearby bench and managed to get his son and his dog settled down enough so he could give the matter his full attention.

"Okay, what's up? Tell your old dad."

CJ squirmed a bit and, looking at the ground in front of him, said, "Dad, what if I don't want to be a spy?"

"Well, then you don't have to be," Chuck replied, relieved that the problem was something he might actually be able to handle.

The boy turned his astonished and hopeful face to his father.

"Really, dad?" he asked excitedly. "John said there was no way out of it and once you're with The Company you're with it for life."

Chuck placed his arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him close. His heart went out to the boy. Chuck could still remember how it felt to have to weigh his choices, and Chuck had been an adult at the time. It was probably quite overwhelming for a not-quite-ten-year-old boy.

"You know, to some extent, CJ, our family is in it for life, but that doesn't mean you have to actually work for them. You'd have to at least learn enough so that we could all protect each other, and you've already started doing that anyway. What is it you think you might want to do?"

"I don't know exactly, dad, but I like to draw and I'm getting pretty good at it. Maybe an illustrator or an architect or something. You know, graphic novels or comics, building design."

Chuck ruffled CJ's hair and kissed him on the temple. "That's my boy," he said proudly, "chip off the old block."

"So what happens next, dad?" CJ asked, his customary childlike excitement shining in his eyes once more.

"Well, I think the best thing now is we'll go and talk to your mom and Uncle Johnny and Auntie Ilsa about it, see what they have to say. You may have to come in to the office for some special training. I don't know about that yet."

Chuck paused, hesitating over what he wanted to say next.

"I'll warn you, though, the agencies have a knack of taking natural talent and figuring out a way to use it, so if you really want a civilian life instead of a spy life, you'd better make up your mind for sure one way or the other now. Because John is right in one way, once you're truly in, it's really hard to get out."

"Thanks, dad. That's a good plan," CJ said, standing up. "But before we go back and I have to grow up and decide what the whole rest of my life is going to be like, can I maybe just walk the dog with my dad in the park for a little while longer?"


	6. Sarah Takes a Break

"Chuck, eat your vegetables," Sarah instructed firmly.

"But mom, I am," replied CJ around a mouthful of broccoli.

"I was talking to your father."

Sarah glared at her husband, then said, "You're setting a bad example for the children, Chuck."

"Aw, Sarah," Chuck whined, "you know I don't like broccoli."

The three children took up the chorus. "Yeah, mom, you know dad doesn't like broccoli! Dad only likes pizza! I hate broccoli too! Mom, why can't we have pizza?!"

Chuck motioned to them with the hand gesture for "Quiet" when he realized that Sarah wasn't answering her family's teasing. In fact, he was alarmed to see her face crumpling and tears beginning to leak out from under closed eyelids before she raised her hands to her eyes and sat back in her chair, her spine bowed forwards in defeat.

Chuck waved his hand again and pointed to the ceiling. He could hear CJ and John and Lisa get down from their chairs and creep out of the room to go upstairs, whispering, "Sorry, mom," and "We didn't mean it," as they went out through the doorway.

Getting up from his chair, Chuck went over to his upset wife and hunkered down in front of her. He put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her head to nestle against his neck as he repeated, "Sarah, Sarah."

After a handful of sobs had shaken Sarah's frame and she drew in one large, wet sniff, she raised her glistening eyes to Chuck's concerned ones and said, "I'm sorry, honey. I don't know what happened there."

"I think I do," Chuck said.

He stood and drew Sarah to her feet and then sat in her chair, pulling her down onto his lap where he enfolded her in his arms once again and she snuggled against him. She let out the breath she had been holding in a strong sigh, then looked up at her husband's knowing face, asking, "You do?"

"Of course I do," replied Chuck smugly. "It's me, isn't it?"

Sarah laughed and started to feel her mystery malaise evaporate. "Are you going to let me in on the secret?" she asked while kissing him on the neck and raising her hands so she could run her fingers through his hair.

"Well, if you keep that up, young lady, I won't be able to speak in a couple of minutes, so if you want to hear it, you'd better pay attention."

"Okay, I'll be good," Sarah said meekly, but took the opportunity to give Chuck a firm kiss before allowing him to explain.

"As I was saying –" Chuck croaked, then cleared his throat to start again. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you're working too hard. You're out on missions most days, sometimes at night, and you're looking after all of us. We have guests over all the time and then there's Casey and now Ilsa. Not that I think they shouldn't be here, but you take too much on yourself."

Chuck paused and looked into Sarah's eyes with a worried frown and, smoothing her hair down the back of her head, continued. "You need to take some time for yourself, honey. You're getting close to a burnout."

Sarah considered for a moment and countered, "You know, Chuck, you're probably right. But what can I do about it? I'm the one who wanted spy life and a family. Maybe it just doesn't work to mix the two after all."

"Sarah, there's a way to figure this out. We just need to ask for advice," Chuck said. Activating the communications feature on his wristwatch, he said, "Casey, can you and Ilsa come over here? We need your expertise."

Chuck smiled reassuringly at Sarah when they heard the single-word response, "Roger."

* * *

When Casey and Ilsa came through the door, Casey was startled by Sarah's appearance. He'd seen his partner in many different states but never like this before. He immediately turned to Chuck and growled, "What did you do to her, Bartowski?"

Ilsa placed herself in front of her man, who was trying to look his most intimidating, and turned him towards the kitchen, saying, "Go and make us some coffee, you big bully," while smiling wryly at Chuck and Sarah.

When Casey had complied, muttering under his breath all the way, Ilsa put her arms around Sarah's shoulders and steered her to the living room. They sat side-by-side on the couch as Chuck lowered himself into an armchair opposite and waited for the coffee to be set out. When Casey came in with a tray and four steaming mugs, Ilsa asked him to go upstairs and reassure the children that everything was all right.

"Now, this looks like civilian stress to me," Ilsa began in a soothing tone.

Sarah nodded and Chuck said, "That's what I thought too."

"And I know just what you need," Ilsa continued brightly. Casey rejoined them and gave a thumbs-up signal to indicate that everything was all right with the Bartowski brood and Sarah smiled at him gratefully.

Turning again to face her partner's fiancée, Sarah inquired, "What do I need?"

"Girls' weekend," came the reply, and Sarah's face brightened, her positive reaction causing the two men to smile back in relief.

* * *

It had been a rough evening. The kids had been played with, fed, played with, washed and tucked into bed, read to, brought back out for warm milk, sent back to bed, reassured about enemy agents – or lack thereof – under a certain little girl's bed, sternly lectured about sleeping with the lights out and tenderly re-tucked by their father and non-biological uncle until they were finally asleep and all was quiet.

The two men, now exhausted, were sprawled out in the living room chairs, too tired to turn on the TV and too afraid to look around the house to see the extent of the mess they were going to have to clean up before Sunday night when Ilsa and Sarah were due to return.

"What do you think the girls are doing right now?" Casey asked, propping his feet up on an ottoman and letting his head loll back until he was looking at the ceiling.

"I dunno," Chuck responded with a sigh. "Probably getting their toenails painted or sipping champagne and eating chocolates by a fireplace."

"Or getting a massage from some 23 year old named Sven," Casey ground out through clenched teeth, his brow clouding over as he raised his head to glower at Chuck.

"Down, boy," Chuck laughed. "I don't think you have to worry about Ilsa, big guy. Remember, she did come back to you."

Casey's expression lightened and became uncharacteristically tender. "Yeah," he sighed wistfully.

Chuck gaped for a moment at the agent and then caught himself, quickly changing his expression before Casey noticed.

"I know," Chuck continued their speculation, "they're getting one of those mud bath things, you know, where you get expensive dirt smeared all over and then..."

Now the expressions of both men changed to something a little more primal as they contemplated this scenario, each picturing a different woman and repeating, "Yeah..."

* * *

Sarah reached down and scooped up a dollop of mud. After carefully applying it to each cheek in swooshes underneath her eyes, she turned her head towards Ilsa and whispered, "How's that?"

"Perfect," came the reply.

It was a bit difficult to see, what with the lighting being so low, but by the occasional flashes coming from nearby, Sarah was just able to make out the low line of trees in the distance.

The two women lowered their night goggles into place and got up from prone positions behind the low bulwark, moving as quietly and as quickly as possible in a crouching attitude to the next shelter, a facsimile of a bombed-out building. They waited until they heard the order, "Fire!" before letting loose a volley of rounds from their rifles and were gratified to see the distant plywood targets shatter under the onslaught.

Sarah, sitting and turning her back towards the crumbling brick wall so she could reload, smiled broadly at Ilsa, who was also reloading and grinning back and, raising her voice so she could be heard over a sudden barrage of rifle fire, yelled out, "Thanks, Trinchina! This is the best girls' weekend ever!"


	7. Covering Up

"We did this at school already, dad."

Chuck surveyed his three children, who were sprawled around the living room looking bored. Sarah sat to one side with that look on her face that let Chuck know he was on his own with this one.

"I know you did, kids," Chuck said, trying unsuccessfully to say it without pleading, "but it's so easy to slip up and blow your cover. Believe me, I know."

Lisa sat straight up from where she had been lounging on the couch, immediately interested.

"When did you blow your cover, dad?" she asked, looking from Chuck to Sarah and back again eagerly.

"Now, just – you see, kids – well – that's not the point," Chuck finally finished, putting his hand out into the air and waving it back and forth, palm out, in an erasing gesture.

Turning his head to appeal to Sarah with his best hurt puppy look, Chuck sighed when he saw she was covering her smirk with one hand and struggling to keep a straight face. He turned back to the children, beginning to feel frustrated, and was pretty sure he saw Sarah mouth something that looked like _I'll tell you later_ out of the corner of his eye. So no help at all was going to come from that quarter, apparently.

Chuck tried again. "Kids, I'm serious here. When Auntie Ellie and Uncle Devon and your cousins come for Ilsa and Casey's engagement party, it's really important that we all keep our covers. The last time they saw you, you weren't taking any classified courses yet, boys, and, Lisa, you had just started school so it wasn't an issue. I need to know that everything is going to be okay."

"We'll be fine, dad," CJ said, getting up and coming over to lay a hand on Chuck's knee, looking much older than his ten years.

"Yeah, dad, we'll be okay," John added.

Chuck looked at his more boisterous son, who was lying on the couch with his back on the seat and his legs resting on the upright portion, feet waving in the air, looking at his father upside down. Chuck never knew whether John was ever really paying attention since he was usually in motion and seemed to be oblivious to other people's feelings most of the time. Naming him after Casey had, in hindsight, been appropriate.

Suddenly, Lisa's jaw started to tremble, her eyes closing into slits as her mouth turned downwards at the outside edges. Chuck sprang up and went to her side as she let out a low, heartwrenching wail and a single tear slid down her cheek. Holding her close, Chuck, looking frantically at Sarah as he tried to figure out what the problem was, rocked his little girl and said, "What's wrong, honey, what's wrong? Tell daddy."

There was something not quite right with the scene and it finally occurred to Chuck what it was. Sarah was still seated, apparently unconcerned, settled back and coolly watching the little drama unfold. After about a half minute, the small blonde bundle in Chuck's arms started to shake with laughter, and she looked up into Chuck's face, smiling, saying, "We'll be okay, daddy. It's just regular spy stuff, after all."

Chuck didn't know whether to be angry or relieved or amused, and while he was trying to decide which, his hesitation gave Lisa the chance to pull his head down to her level with both arms around his neck. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered into his ear, "I love you, daddy, but you've still got a lot to learn," before jumping off of the couch and running happily to the kitchen.

The twins took this as their cue to leave as well, and John flipped to his feet with natural fluidity and grace, calling out, "Smell you later!" as he ran after his sister.

CJ took in Chuck's crestfallen expression and approached him once more. "We've been doing it practically all of our lives, dad. It's no biggie. It's easy to remember, even for Lisa, because we know it's to keep everybody safe. And if we slip up, you or mom or Uncle Johnny or Auntie Ilsa can fix it. So everything's good."

The boy turned and walked out of the room, going upstairs and leaving Chuck and Sarah on their own.

When Chuck sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, his face the picture of dejection as he looked at the floor, Sarah got up and came over to sit beside him on the couch.

He looked at Sarah and smiled wanly. She put her arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly before sitting back again. Chuck's ready ability to laugh at himself finally won out and he smiled brightly at her, chuckling quietly as he reached up to caress Sarah's cheek.

"You know, I never could tell when you were faking it, either," he said. "I just hope they don't pull that stuff to trick me about anything."

He kissed Sarah tenderly before continuing.

"You'll help me out if they do, won't you?" he asked as he looked into his wife's eyes.

"Of course, Chuck," she answered, smiling warmly into his eyes before kissing him back. "But you know how much it turns me on when you do the dad thing," and she moved in to kiss him again before he could say anything about it.

By this time, Sarah was busy turning their kisses into an invitation, and after a couple of minutes, Chuck had to break away to catch his breath, which stopped in his throat when he saw the deep, seductive look in her eyes.

"Are you faking now?" he whispered to her as he tried to maintain some kind of suburban decorum. After all, it was the middle of the day and the kids were home and Casey and Ilsa could pop in at any moment and – and – and Sarah looked so sexy and lovely and Chuck could feel the sudden warmth in his belly...

"Why don't you come to our bedroom with me and find out?" Sarah breathed. She stood up and drew Chuck to his feet to lead him out of the room towards the stairs. "If you want fake, we can always pretend we're back in your old room when our relationship was just a cover."

Chuck pulled on Sarah's hand and drew her back to him, his reply reaching her ears in a low and smoky voice. "No more fake between us, Sarah, just real," and he released her so they could race up the stairs, giggling like the young lovers they still were.


	8. Family Reunion

When the Woodcomb branch of the family finally arrived for Casey and Ilsa's engagement party, Chuck ran up to Ellie as she got out of the SUV.

"Sis, hey!" he called out, enfolding her in a big, warm hug.

"Oh, Chuck, it's so good to see you again," Ellie said, slipping comfortably into her brother's embrace. They hadn't seen each other for several months so it was understandable that the siblings, who had always been very close, would simply hold each other by the side of the road, saying nothing.

Suddenly, Chuck realized what was different about his older sister and pushed Ellie out to arms' length, looking downwards speculatively.

"Ellie, you seem a bit bumpy. You're not – are you?"

"Yes, Chuck, but only just a little more than three months. That's why I didn't tell you over the phone. I thought that since we were going to be coming here anyway it would be nicer to tell you in person."

Chuck could hardly contain himself. "Hey, everybody, I'm gonna be an uncle again!" he cried out, turning around to grin at Sarah and his three children, who had assembled to greet Ellie and Devon and their family.

Beaming as cries of "Hey, great!" and "Congratulations, Auntie Ellie!" and "Devon, you old dog!" – from Sarah, of all people – reached his ears, Chuck turned back to his sister and asked, "When did you and the doc decide to try again? I figured you were going to stop after these two."

Reaching out, Chuck ruffled the hair of his ten-year-old nephew and said cheerfully, "Hi, Eddie!"

"Hi, Uncle Chuck," the boy responded almost inaudibly, his face turned down towards the ground.

Standing slightly behind her tall, gangly younger brother was a composed and impeccably groomed young lady of just over twelve years who looked strikingly like Ellie. She stepped forwards and stated primly, "Hello, Uncle Charles. I hope you're well," while offering her cheek to Chuck for a kiss, which he awkwardly pecked and, copying the child's formal manner, said, "Hello, Marianne. Yes, I'm well, thank you. I'm glad you were able to come," before watching for a moment as she picked her way delicately over to Sarah to continue her reserved greetings.

Ellie leaned over and whispered in Chuck's ear, "She's been acting like this for about six months now. It's a bit creepy but, all things considered, probably better than a lot of other things she could have gotten into."

"Amen to that, sis," Chuck declared.

Just as Chuck was about to make way so Sarah could say hello to her sister-in-law, he had to let all the air in his lungs out in a rush due to the fact that his brother-in-law had decided a monumentally awesome hello bear hug was in order.

"Bro! How're they hangin'?!" Devon shouted in Chuck's ear as he tried to catch his breath and make some kind of reply.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chuck could see the male cousins standing nearby, Eddie, scowling now – most likely because of his father's embarrassing outburst – and CJ and John laughing behind their hands at the slightly indecent greeting. Chuck flushed pinkly and told himself it was because of the pressure on his solar plexus and not the public reference to the Bartowski family jewels. Chuck had to struggle a bit to keep his feet when Devon finally let him go, and after he had recovered, said, "Hey, Cap' – Devon, um, how's – yeah," before giving up and patting his sister's husband on the shoulder.

Sarah was a little better prepared when it was her turn and she accepted Devon's unrestrained show of affection with good grace and a happy squeal, hugging and kissing Ellie with true affection when she was released.

"Congratulations," Sarah said, taking Ellie's hand and tucking their arms together, trying to keep a look of envy out of her eyes. By the penetrating assessment that Ellie was making of her expression, Sarah knew she hadn't been that successful, and the dark-haired woman whispered, "We'll chat later," as they turned towards the house.

The adults went in through the front door, already talking animatedly in an effort to catch up with each other, leaving the five cousins outside. Lisa and Marianne were conversing quietly and politely as the three boys stood some distance off and watched them.

John turned to Eddie, his tone casual, and said, "Marianne sure seems stuck up since the last time we visited. What happened, Eddie?"

"Nothing happened," Eddie replied sourly, his hands in his jeans pockets as he avoided his cousin's insolent gaze. "She's just a girl. They're all like that."

"Our sister isn't," said John. "She could probably beat the crap out of CJ if she wanted to and she's four years younger than we are."

CJ, who was used to John's trying to get a rise out of him, smiled good-naturedly at his twin and remained silent. Eddie, however, was starting to get a little worked up by John's attitude, and he whirled abruptly to face the Bartowski boys, his hands clenched into fists beside his thighs, and declared loudly, "Well, what do you know, anyway?!"

Any impending altercation was halted, however, as the two girls turned and approached the boys. Marianne, her face composed and her nose slightly in the air, spoke first.

"We must go inside, Edward. Mother will want to know where we are."

John, his tone cocky and challenging, said, "Well, if we must then I guess we must," smiling as he shot a glance at CJ to check for his reaction.

The tousle-haired twin was met by Marianne's withering gaze when he turned his head back around to her. As if she were explaining to a person who needed things explained slowly and clearly, she stated, "Mother informed me that boys mature at a much slower rate than girls. Evidently, we have empirical proof right here," and turned to go to the house, leaving John gaping and speechless, the laughter of the moment before replaced by a look resembling nothing less than complete awe.

Eddie, without a backward glance at his three cousins, trailed after his sister as CJ and Lisa exchanged a surprised look at the unfamiliar expression on their brother's face, who suddenly appeared for all the world as though he had just fallen head over heels in love.


	9. Casey's Reality Adjustment

Sarah had planned a backyard barbeque that afternoon and evening for the Bartowskis, the Woodcombs and the soon-to-be Caseys. She and Ellie and Marianne were in the kitchen finalizing the preparations, and Sarah was just putting the finishing touches on a large potato salad when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" she called out, licking her finger then wiping it on a nearby towel. Sarah wondered who could be bothering them so close to the supper hour and was frowning a bit when she peeped through one of the long, thin windows flanking the door. Odd. Casey and Ilsa, who were standing patiently on the porch, usually just popped the lock and walked right in. Oh, yeah, covers.

Sarah unlocked and opened the door for them, and Casey winked as he entered with Ilsa following close behind, but his attention was suddenly diverted when his arms were filled by Ellie, who squealed with delight as she hurled herself towards her former neighbor.

"John! Congratulations! I almost couldn't believe it when Chuck told me!" she cried, her face shining with joy.

"_Is that the big guy?_"

Devon's voice boomed up from the basement stairs as he took them two at a time to come and greet Chuck's friend, followed closely by Chuck, the remaining four children and Flash, who had all been seeing to the sleeping accommodations for Ellie and Devon in the spare bedroom in the basement.

Casey blushed to the tips of his ears when Ellie squeezed him tightly and gave him an impulsive kiss on the mouth, and he turned his head to glance guiltily at Ilsa, who was observing the encounter with an infuriatingly amused and speculative expression.

Before Casey could recover his equilibrium, he was enfolded in another enthusiastic embrace, this time by Devon, who thumped his back with one hand while exclaiming, "Decided to join the ranks, huh, buddy? Who's the lucky girl?"

Casey managed to croak out, "Ilsa," before he was abruptly released and felt several pairs of eyes on his still-reddened face.

Ilsa stepped forwards and said, smiling, "That would be me."

She extended her hand in Devon's direction but was also treated to a hug instead of a handshake, although not of the bone-crushing variety, and received a sound kiss on the cheek as Devon stated, "Ilsa, whatever you did to tie this guy down, my hat's off to you," and made way to give Ellie a chance to greet the bride-to-be.

"Ilsa, it really is a pleasure to meet you," Ellie said, stepping close for her own hug. "I hope you two will be very happy. You'll have to tell me all about how you met and finally got John to take the plunge."

Chuck decided this was a good moment to rescue Ilsa from the motherly attentions of his sister, who was actually the younger of the two women, and stepped forwards to announce, "Okay, everybody, I think we should go to the backyard and maybe start with a drink. Sis and the kids, fruit juice," and he spread his arms out and turned to herd the families towards the back door.

Everyone started making a move except, Chuck noted, Casey, who appeared rooted to the spot, a look of raw panic on his face.

"Ellie, you're pregnant?" he asked, loudly enough to halt the exodus, then clamped his jaw shut and scowled at the room generally, his discomfort plain for everyone to see.

Chuck, realizing his friend was in some strange kind of distress, turned back around quickly to face his family and guests once again and waved his arms, saying cheerily, "Let's all get outside and discuss it there, shall we?" and this was enough to take the focus away from the agent and give him a chance to recover his composure.

In the meantime, Ilsa had slipped into Casey's arms and was holding him, wondering what the problem was and trying to get him to look at her, which he was studiously avoiding. When he did scowl down at her and saw her concern, his face lightened and he bent his head to kiss her warmly, saying afterwards, "I'm sorry, my love. I think all these families and children and another new baby have got me a bit jumpy. I hadn't figured I'd be in the same situation one day."

Ilsa smiled up at him reassuringly. "We'll talk about it later, okay? Let's go outside right now and enjoy the party."

Casey smiled tenderly and nodded, letting Ilsa walk ahead of him towards the backyard.

When they got there, everyone else had been provided with drinks and were helping themselves to snacks and appetizers that had been set out while Devon checked the temperature on the barbeque. Sarah carried a platter of steaks out from the kitchen and he slapped them on the grill, proclaiming, "It's the only cooking that Ellie will let me do and only then under supervision."

"That's right. You boys keep an eye on him," she said over her shoulder to Chuck, then turned her smiling face towards Casey. She whispered, "Everything all right?" and grasped Ilsa's arm, pulling her to one side, and, with the other hand in the small of Casey's back, encouraged him to join her husband and her brother around the barbeque.

Ilsa nodded and let Ellie sit her down in a wicker chair set in a small grouping with a low table in the middle. She accepted the drink that Ellie had prepared, a mixture of fruit juices and rum, and sipped at the straw as Sarah came over to join them, her own drink in her hand.

Ellie took a sip of her fruit juice, then leaned forwards in her chair, her expression purely one of concern, and asked Ilsa, "Is John all right? He seemed to react very strangely for him when he found out I was pregnant. I hope there's nothing really wrong, Ilsa. I wouldn't want him to be upset right now when he should be so very happy."

"Not at all, Ellie," Ilsa began. "It just shook him up a bit. We haven't talked about children yet but it's obviously something that's on his mind. We're going to talk about it later in private."

The three women turned their heads as one to stare at their three men, who must have felt the female eyes on them and turned to look back. Casey started a bit under their scrutiny, as though he were guilty of something, and Chuck clapped him on the back to divert his attention while shooting Sarah a look that said, _Do something to help the guy out!_

Sarah picked up on her husband's unspoken signal immediately and tried to change the subject, but Ellie wasn't finished yet. Putting a hand over Ilsa's, Ellie frowned, and said, "Oh, I hope he isn't getting cold feet."

Ilsa smiled slyly at the two wives and replied with confidence, "Don't worry, Ellie, I think I have the cure for cold feet," and the men whipped their heads around again at the sound of the low, indecent-sounding laughter coming from the other side of the yard.


	10. Experimentation

John had never felt like this before in his life. It was sort of a cross between racing his bike down that long, winding hill at the far end of the park near the reservoir and snuggling under the covers with an extra blanket on top. Oh, yeah, and kinda tickly too, like slurping juice from the fuzzy skin of a peach.

"If you open your mouth, I'm stopping," Marianne whispered, jolting John out of his reverie.

It hadn't even occurred to John that this was an option but, now that Marianne had mentioned it, he guessed it was, since he had seen grown-ups doing it in some movies that his mom and dad didn't know he had watched. And he'd even sometimes caught his mom and dad doing it too. Gross.

"Let me try again," he said, shifting closer to his cousin where they crouched together in the hiding place they'd disappeared to. There probably wasn't a lot of time to experiment that much, since they were still a bit exposed and could be easily found by anybody who was looking for them, so John was determined to get the most that he could out of his first real kissing session.

When he moved his head back into position and placed his lips on Marianne's once more, John was surprised to feel that her mouth was a little open, the end of her tongue touching his lips and trembling there. He gasped a bit in shock, opening his mouth to do so, and before he even realized what was happening, he and Marianne were doing it too, just like in those movies, and the sensations he had felt a few moments before were nothing compared to these new ones coursing along his nerves and making his head start to pound.

Unfortunately, the sensory overload also diverted John's and Marianne's attention from the outside world, and when he was roughly jerked to his feet by the collar of his shirt, John's cry of alarm reached the ears of the adults sitting in the backyard, who came running when the sound was quickly followed by angry shouting.

When Chuck and Devon rounded the house, closely followed by Casey, they saw Marianne, dirt on her hands and knees, trying to shield John from an enraged Eddie, who was reaching around her, punching and kicking the air as he screamed incoherently. Finally, he yelled out, "You touched my sister! I'm going to kill you!"

Chuck and Devon ran to Eddie to get him under control while Casey stood behind his namesake, both hands on the boy's shoulders. When John looked up at the tall agent, Casey shook his head slightly from side to side, and the boy relaxed from the ready pose he had adopted, one that Casey had recognized from his martial arts training. One that could have put enough power into John's foot or fist to kill a full-grown man, let alone a ten-year-old boy.

Eddie had finally worked out enough of his frustration to at least subside and, tears wetting his cheeks, he sobbed into his sleeve. Devon was down on one knee in front of his son and Ellie stood to the side, a worried frown on her face as she held on to Marianne, who was calmly surveying the scene, once more the picture of prim self-control.

Sarah and Ilsa stood apart from the rest behind CJ and Lisa, who were goggling round-eyed at their brother. CJ mouthed, _You kissed her?_ and Lisa laughed quietly behind one hand when John nodded back a triumphantly emphatic _Yes!_, for which he received a light but sharp cuff on the back of the head from his Uncle Johnny.

Unbeknownst to young John, Casey had caught Chuck's eye, then Sarah's, his brows raised as he subtly gestured towards their child, and he received the merest of nods back from them both before making his next move.

"Come on, Romeo, we're going to have a little talk, you and I," Casey whispered. John's face fell at this bit of information but there wasn't much he could do about it when Casey grasped the boy's upper arm and marched him across the lawn and into the house next door. Once they got inside, Casey ordered, "Sit!" and John numbly complied, every trace of his usual brash manner gone and replaced by, if not fear, at least a creeping dread.

So what Casey said first took him completely by surprise.

"You're, what, now, ten? Kissing girls already? Way to go, kid."

John raised his eyes to look up at Casey, who was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest and grinning down at the boy with a look of pride on his face. This only lasted as long as it took John to begin to smile, however, after which Casey's expression changed into a deadly serious one. Turning to pull a chair up facing John's, the agent sat down uncomfortably close to the already unnerved boy, as though this were the start of a long, brutal interrogation.

If John wasn't going to get in trouble for kissing Marianne, then why had Uncle Johnny dragged him over here? He looked up into the agent's face when Casey hadn't said anything for almost a minute, and since that's what Casey had been waiting for him to do, it wasn't long before John found out what the problem was.

"You almost blew your cover out there, boy," Casey began. He paused for a moment to let this information sink in and smiled grimly when he saw that John had realized what precisely he had done that could have caused this terrible breach to occur.

"I was going to fight above my probable skill range," John muttered, dropping his head down, embarrassed at a mistake any baby would have known better than to make.

"Exactly," Casey stated. "So what are we going to do about it?" he asked, waiting expectantly for the answer.

"Say I've learned my lesson and forget it ever happened?" John hazarded hopefully, raising his head as he did so. He was dismayed, however, to see that his attempt at lightening the mood hadn't worked and Uncle Johnny was not going to let him off that easily.

"What we're going to do," the agent explained, "is get you some focus training. Teach you better control. I've noticed that you're a good fighter but you lack discipline. CJ's not as good a fighter but he's got more control and brains to go with it than any kid his age has a right to."

Casey paused again to underline what he was about to say next.

"You, on the other hand, are going to get yourself killed with your smart mouth and your reckless ways. Therefore, we're going to have to teach you to respect what it is you can do. And that can't be learned sitting behind a desk in a classroom. So, John Alan Bartowski, when all this party stuff is over, your butt is mine."

John was overjoyed at this news. His Uncle Johnny was going to take him on as a student personally! This was great! He was going to learn so much! It was going to be – well, judging by the look on Uncle Johnny's face, it was probably going to be lots of hard work and very painful, but it was still just about the most exciting thing that had happened to John so far.

The boy got off of his chair and moved to one side, placed his feet and his palms together carefully and, bowing from the waist, solemnly said, "Yes, Sensei." He remained bowed down until he felt Casey's hand on his shoulder and heard his uncle's low chuckle.

They turned to leave the house and re-join the party. As they walked back across the lawn, both the man and the boy were smiling and Casey put a collegial arm around John's shoulders. In a low voice, Casey inquired, "So did Miss Marianne ask you to do the kissing?" and when John grinned up at him and nodded _Yes_, the agent grinned back and said, "Good man."


	11. Warm Feet

Chuck sighed as he finished washing and drying the last of the pots and put them away. He had sent everyone else to the living room to relax and now it was his turn. Tomorrow was going to be hectic, Chuck was sure, but he hoped that things would go smoothly enough that they all had a chance to enjoy Ilsa and Casey's day.

Making a mental note to ask Casey what the outcome of his talk with John had been and to check with Ellie that the kissing episode had been just that and nothing more sinister, Chuck went towards the living room, stopping in the doorway and leaning over to rest his shoulder against the jamb. At least Chuck didn't have to deal with the "John problem" now, as he had come to call it in his mind, and his heart filled with contentment as he stood and watched his extended family sitting and chatting and playing a game and snoozing in the big chair in the corner. Well, Devon – Flash lying sprawled out on his abdomen – was snoozing in the corner, at least, and Ellie caught Chuck's eye with a big grin as she glanced towards her husband and back before getting up to come over and stand beside Chuck.

"How's my little brother?" Ellie asked, circling Chuck's waist with her arms and squeezing him for a moment before loosening off and holding him comfortably.

"Happy," Chuck replied simply. He copied Ellie's gentle embrace around her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "Tired and happy," he repeated. "You?"

"Same," she said, smiling up at him.

"Oh, I meant to ask you, how's Marianne? There wasn't anything that happened under the house that we need to be worried about, is there?"

"No, Chuck, everything's okay. John's just a curious boy, not a pervert. At least not yet, anyway."

"Ha, ha, ha," Chuck said dryly. "Don't even joke about it, Ellie. That's one of those things they don't warn you about enough in parent school, what it feels like when your kids really start to grow up."

"Yeah, Chuck, I know exactly what you mean. Actually, the whole thing was Marianne's idea, apparently, so John is off the hook in that department in any case," Ellie said wryly, turning her head to look at her daughter, who was playing Parcheesi with Lisa, John, CJ, and Ilsa, and looking as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"So now we're down to the big John's problem and Sarah's, and then everything will be looked after," Ellie continued brightly. She raised a hand to her mouth, however, when she saw the look on Chuck's face.

"What problem of Sarah's?" he asked, suddenly alert.

Ellie made her _Just pretend I didn't say that_ face and tried to cover up with, "No problem. Sarah doesn't have a problem." She planted a quick kiss on Chuck's cheek before she let him go and fled to the bathroom.

"Ellie!" Chuck whined loudly, which caused the remaining heads to turn in his direction to watch him standing there, his arms hanging at his sides helplessly.

Lisa leaned over and, in a highly theatrical stage whisper so everybody could hear, informed Marianne, "They're brother and sister, you know. That's why they act like that."

* * *

Casey sighed as he tossed his keys and loose change onto the top of the dresser. Today had certainly been interesting, what with visiting relatives and unpredictable kids and his thoughts running constantly to the new life that Ellie was carrying, the kind of new life that Ilsa could be carrying soon if things went the way Casey supposed they would. The way he wanted them to, that is. He sighed again as his thoughts started grinding through the same pathways they had been traveling all day.

Ilsa walked up to him from behind and circled his waist with her arms, resting the side of her head on his back. Casey loved the way she could do that, just know when he needed to talk, when he needed to not talk, when he needed to eat or laugh or have a discussion or feel her skin next to his. He wasn't sure if it was women's intuition or her agent's training or a combination of both, but they just seemed to fit. Casey had asked Ilsa about it once and she seemed surprised to hear that she was capable of giving him what he needed, sometimes before he knew he needed it, because, she explained carefully, he did the same for her.

Casey turned in Ilsa's arms and said, "I'm sorry I freaked out today. Can we talk about it?"

"Of course," Ilsa replied and pulled him over to the bed, where they sat down on the edge.

Keeping hold of Casey's hands, she listened without interrupting as he told her, "Ilsa, I want to marry you but I'm a bit scared about the fact of marriage. With anyone. I've had it in my head for so long that I'm a loner and I'm not supposed to have a wife or a family. That conditioning is hard to break. Please help me."

"I will, Sugar Bear," Ilsa said, "as long as you tell me something first. Ellie made you nervous before you found out she was pregnant. Why?"

Casey's hesitation almost broke Ilsa's heart, but she had to know what was going on, if anything. Finally, he said, "You were gone, Ilsa. I had no one. And Ellie reminded me of you. Dark hair, flashing eyes, running around looking after everybody else first. I just developed a little dependency, you might say. Nothing more. So when the two of you were there at the same time, I panicked a bit. Please don't say anything to Ellie or Chuck."

"I understand completely, Casey. And now I'm here so you don't need substitutes."

Ilsa got up from the bed and walked over to spin the dimmer switch to low before turning back to face the man she loved and was soon to marry.

"Now, let's see if we can warm up those cold feet, shall we?"

* * *

Chuck, who had just dozed off with Sarah lying in his arms, jerked awake at the strange sounds coming from the house next door. Whatever it was it was really loud, as it was a cool night and the windows of both houses were sure to be closed against the chill.

"What's that?" Chuck whispered to Sarah in the dark. He could feel she was completely alert and listening as well.

After a moment, Sarah relaxed and began kissing Chuck's neck, saying, "Mmmmm, that, my dear husband, is Casey enjoying a Level Three. I believe Ilsa is convincing him to go ahead with the wedding."

"Level Three!" Chuck exclaimed. "It sounds like she's killing him!"

"She just might," Sarah breathed into Chuck's ear as she responded to the erotic noises they couldn't block out.

Chuck paused a moment to listen again before commenting, "You know, Sarah, they'd better stop. Somebody's going to call the fire department or something. You know, if they – what the heck was that you just did?!"

Chuck's heartbeat and respiration had suddenly increased radically and he groaned loudly and writhed around violently on the bed before Sarah answered, "Hold still. That was only Level Point Five."


	12. Coffee Klatsch

Sitting at the kitchen table, Sarah sipped her coffee and luxuriated in the feeling of relaxed muscles and self-assured optimism that only a good night of lovemaking with Chuck could give her. And Sarah felt better than usual this morning after last night. She didn't even feel tired, which was amusing, because Chuck was still in bed and hadn't moved a muscle when Sarah had gotten up that morning. She almost felt sorry for the man, and the corners of her mouth curved up in a wicked grin as she recalled precisely why.

Sarah heard the breezeway door open as Ilsa called out, "Hello? Sarah?" and appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Come on in and have some coffee, Ilsa," Sarah said, getting up to pull another mug from the cupboard. "How's our soldier doing today? A little more in favor of the marriage thing?"

As Ilsa sat down, she hesitated a moment before speaking. A grin quite similar to Sarah's had formed on Ilsa's face and she had to wait for it to subside a bit before she could speak.

"Oh, you heard, I guess?" she said.

As Ilsa began to drink her coffee, Sarah threw back her head a bit and laughed. "Ilsa," she chuckled, "half the neighborhood heard. Chuck was saying he was surprised that nobody was calling emergency services before I..."

Ilsa set her mug down abruptly. "Sarah, you didn't!" she exclaimed.

"Well, it was kind of hard not to with you two making all that ruckus. Is Casey going to be able to make it to the party?"

"We'll see," Ilsa replied. "I say give him another hour. He's made of pretty stern stuff, after all. He did look a little worse for wear when I left the house a few minutes ago but he had just enough energy to say he was very, very happy and ready to go ahead with everything. It made me love him even more, Sarah, that he would trust me like that. And I didn't think it was even possible to love him more than I already did."

Ilsa smiled at Sarah with such a wistful and tender look on her face, a look that Sarah understood completely. It had taken Sarah and Chuck a while to get to that point in their relationship and it had been hard work for both of them, but it sure had been worth it.

Just then, Ellie and Devon entered the kitchen calling out their morning greetings. Sarah informed them that all five children had eaten and gone over to the park. Devon was dressed for a run and had just stopped in to fill his water bottle before heading out. Ellie was looking forward to a cup of coffee and another good chin wag with Sarah and Ilsa. Instead of coffee, though, she opted for a glass of cold milk and joined the two women.

"So," Ellie began, "what was that strange noise I was hearing last night? It's a good thing we were in the basement; otherwise, I don't think we would have been able to sleep a wink. Sarah, you and Chuck must not have gotten too much rest."

Simultaneously, Sarah replied, "Skunks," and Ilsa supplied, "Coyotes," as the explanation for the noise, causing Ellie to move her head quickly from one to the other before Sarah continued, "Yes, Chuck is still sleeping, I think."

"As is John," Ilsa added, taking a sip from her mug to cover up another smile.

"Well, then, you two can tell me what I can do to help today," Ellie declared, hunching forwards enthusiastically in anticipation of the planning and execution of the day's festivities.

* * *

About an hour later, after Sarah, Ilsa and Ellie had figured out the food, guest logistics and timetable for the party, they were joined first by Chuck, who dragged himself into the kitchen, eyes half closed, and sat down beside his sister. He managed to open his eyes a bit wider for a moment, essaying a weak smile when Ellie kissed him on the cheek before she observed, "Boy, you really didn't sleep last night. Don't you hate it when they're carrying on like that?"

Chuck pulled his head back sharply to look at his sister. Luckily, he was also able to see Sarah's and Ilsa's signals from out of the corner of his eye and he was well enough conditioned by now to know when to keep his mouth shut – well, most of the time, anyway – so he let Sarah take over the conversation and took a long pull from his coffee mug as he worked out a kink in his left shoulder.

When Casey came in shortly after, sunglasses firmly in place, he plopped himself down beside Ilsa and eagerly accepted the mug of coffee that was offered. Instead of commenting this time, Ellie looked at him suspiciously, screwing her mouth and eyes up as she tried to fit the seeming square peg in the round hole of the facts before her. She eventually shrugged and gave it up as a lost cause when none of the four others around the table offered further information about what might really be going on.

* * *

Early in the afternoon, after everyone had had a light lunch of soup and sandwiches, guests started to arrive. Any CIA and NSA personnel had been informed ahead of time that there would be civilians present so the Woodcombs mixed with Chuck's and Sarah's and Casey's neighborhood acquaintances and work colleagues without knowing that more than half had to play a role so they could attend the party.

Ellie and Devon were delighted to meet Casey's Aunt Diane, a short woman with a dour expression and straight spine who stepped out of a chauffeur-driven Cadillac, wielding her cane as though it were a weapon. She seemed a bit uncomfortable when Casey leaned down to kiss her on the cheek but her face transformed into a warm smile when she saw Ilsa, and the two women immediately linked arms and wandered slowly away from the crowd that was gathering.

Casey's Uncle Roan was another matter. He was white-haired and dapper, still very handsome, and he immediately began to flatter Ellie and Marianne and any other female within shouting distance. Casey, chuckling all the while, steered the old lothario over to the bar that had been set up behind Chuck's house and fixed him a strong martini, which seemed to delight the man no end.

When Ellie inquired after other members of Casey's family, he explained that his mother and sister and brother lived too far away to come for the engagement party but they would be on hand for the wedding. He went on to say that his mother was elderly and ill so she would only be able to tolerate the one trip anyway. When Ellie placed her hand on Casey's arm and reached up to kiss him on the cheek in her sympathy, Casey was relieved to note that he didn't react the way he had when she had gotten close to him the last time, and this served to bolster his new-found confidence in his upcoming nuptials even more.

Chuck was busy greeting the arrivals and pointing them in various directions when he noticed a sleek black car pull up. It was a reconditioned sports car – 1960s vintage, if Chuck was any judge – all chrome and shine. It parked in an available space and the engine turned off. Chuck had paused and turned to see who the person might be, since he certainly didn't recognize the car, and his face lit up brightly when the driver opened the door and emerged.

Beginning a sprint that turned into a full-out run, Chuck whizzed past the other guests, who turned their heads as he passed to see what was going on, and when Chuck reached the man, he caught him up in an enthusiastic embrace, shouting, "Morgan!"


	13. Engagement Party

"Morgan, it's great to see you again, buddy!" Chuck exclaimed, walking his old friend towards the house with an arm over the shorter man's shoulders.

"Yeah, Chuck, same here, man. Sorry I didn't keep in contact like we said we would. You know how it is," Morgan apologized. He looked up at Chuck with the same puppy eyes that he had used asking for Chuck's forgiveness for some transgression when they still worked at the Buy More before Chuck and Sarah had married.

"It's okay, Morgan. I certainly know how busy life can get," Chuck replied. "But you're here now and that's great! I wasn't sure you'd gotten my message."

Morgan stopped walking, which meant Chuck had to stop as well. Looking down at the ground for a moment and then back up into Chuck's eyes with a pained expression that caused Chuck more than a bit of alarm, Morgan said, "I almost didn't. Chuck, Anna left me. That's why I haven't been calling. I was too upset about it."

Chuck held his friend at arms' length by the shoulders and searched the tired, sad eyes, so unlike the old carefree, childlike man that Chuck remembered.

"Morgan, I can't tell you how sorry I am to hear that," he said solemnly.

"Oh, hey, Chuck, things happen. Anyway, you've got a lot to do today. You go do that and maybe we can talk later, okay?" Morgan said, brushing the air in front of his face with a palm and trying to smile.

"We'll do that, Morgan, definitely," Chuck agreed, and the two men put on happy faces and turned to greet Sarah and Ellie, who had jogged over when they realized who it was Chuck was talking to.

But Chuck was quick to notice that Morgan's smile didn't reach his eyes.

* * *

When all the guests were comfortably seated in the chairs arranged behind Casey's house, the little engagement ceremony began. Casey hadn't wanted any big show but the women had convinced him that, with the number of guests present, this would be the way to go. Devon had whispered to the agent that it would also be a good dry run for the wedding ceremony. Somehow, Casey had not seemed comforted by this.

Chuck stood at the front of the assembly between two large potted plant arrangements that were serving to demarcate a sort of stage area and raised his hands to signal for quiet. When he was pretty sure that he had everyone's attention, he began.

"Thank you all for coming today. On behalf of Ilsa and John, I'd just like to say please enjoy yourselves and, as a bit of advice to all the men, don't kiss Ilsa too much. The big guy won't like it."

There was scattered laughter and even a bit of applause from the back, which pleased Chuck until he saw that it was his smart aleck son John, smirking as he flapped his hands together slowly.

"And now," Chuck continued, "I give you Ilsa and John."

Stepping back so the couple could take their places between the potted plants, Chuck beamed as if they were his children instead of his friends. Sarah tucked herself into his arms and smiled first at Chuck and then at Ilsa and Casey as Casey slipped a large diamond on Ilsa's finger and the two kissed tenderly as the real applause started.

Suddenly, Chuck realized that things were not going quite as planned. The applause was beginning to die away and Casey and Ilsa were still kissing, quite a bit more passionately now. When Chuck heard some snickering going on – mostly from Roan Montgomery, he noted – he looked worriedly at Sarah before letting her go and moving towards the oblivious couple to put his hands on Casey's shoulders. Sarah went around and did the same to Ilsa.

Luckily, they didn't have to actually pry the two apart or resort to the garden hose, but Chuck figured it had been pretty close, and he gave a signal to the DJ, in fact, his other son, CJ, to start up the music. Chuck got the impression that there was a collective sigh from the crowd as they applauded again for the stunned and blinking agents, who were now publicly engaged.

* * *

The party started in earnest after this with the guests traveling between the rented dance floor and music behind Casey's house and the buffet and bar behind Chuck's house. After about an hour, Chuck realized that he hadn't seen John or Marianne for a while.

_Not again!_, he thought, quickly searching out Devon, Sarah and Ellie to let them know.

"Well, where can they have gone?" Ellie asked, a worried frown creasing her brow.

"I already checked yesterday's hideaway," Devon said. "I'll have another look around. Maybe if we split up we'll find them faster."

Suddenly, Marianne appeared around the corner of the house walking with Lisa and a couple of the neighborhood girls of the same age.

"Thank goodness for that, at least," said Ellie, relieved that they weren't going to have a replay of yesterday's drama. "Marianne, do you know where John is?"

"I saw him going into the basement a little while ago, mother," Marianne said disinterestedly.

"Oh, good." Chuck let out his breath in a sigh of relief. "He's probably just going to play a computer game or something."

"With Tricia Borland," added one of the neighbor's girls, a knowing sparkle in her eye.

Chuck looked at Sarah, who said in a low voice, "I don't think you can pass it off to Casey this time, Chuck. Good luck, though," and she turned away with Ellie to see to the food supply.

Chuck turned his stricken face to Devon, who stated, "I'm with you all the way, bro," and the two took off towards the house.

* * *

Almost everyone had gone home leaving quite a bit of cleanup still to do, but Chuck figured he could rest for another fifteen minutes or so before tackling it. As he was relaxing and sipping at a bottle of beer, Morgan plopped down in the chair on the other side of the small wicker table and gave Chuck another joyless smile before taking a pull from his own bottle.

"Great party, man," he said, turning his head to survey the damage.

"I remember when a great party involved a visit by the police," Chuck reminisced, and the two men clinked their beer bottles together in a salute to the past.

"So what happened, Morgan?" Chuck continued. "I thought you and Anna were doing all right? You had the stores going and everything. Don't tell me it was another man." After a short pause, Chuck added tentatively, "Or woman."

"No, no, nothing like that," Morgan replied. "Actually, the stores were going great. Anna's father loaned me the money each time I wanted to open a new one. Morgan's Mindgames is making a lot of money now and I've paid all the loans back. But I guess I opened too many and I was working too hard. My Anna Banana said I didn't love her anymore, that I only loved my stores. So she left."

"Ironic, isn't it?" he said, shrugging. "She left me because I've become a workaholic. I must have been saving it up."

"That's rough, Morgan, but you're not getting a divorce or anything are you?" Chuck asked, hope for his friend in his eyes.

"I haven't heard anything yet," Morgan replied, taking a sip from his beer, "but it doesn't look good."

"You know I'll help you in any way I can to get her back, don't you," Chuck said, turning to his friend and placing a hand on his arm.

"Thanks, man," Morgan said. "I knew I could rely on my old buddy Chuck."


	14. Baby Talk

Casey smiled down at Ilsa, who was lying on top of the covers waiting for him to get into bed. She had put on a very small, pretty and flimsy nightgown and was trying out different poses to show it off for him, making subtle adjustments to her arm and leg positions and smiling seductively as the object of her efforts removed his clothes and dumped them on the floor beside the bed, not taking the time to fold or hang or throw them in the laundry hamper the way he usually did.

"You're wasting your time, you know," he commented conversationally as he slipped under the covers. "I'm too tired to do more than look."

"Well, look all you want, you gorgeous man. Maybe you'll get some ideas." Ilsa quickly got under the covers as well and snuggled up to Casey, who had dropped his head back to the pillow and closed his eyes, sighing heavily as he relaxed and pulled Ilsa close.

"I don't know that I want you anyway," Ilsa commented, her nose scrunching up as she pulled her head back to look at her man. "You're all cigar-smelly."

Casey lifted his head from the pillow, a confused look on his face. "I thought you liked the smell of cigars?" he asked, perplexed.

"I do," Ilsa replied, laughing. "I'm just trying to use reverse psychology. Did it work?"

Casey chuckled a bit before lifting the covers up from himself so he could check. "Nope," he reported. "I told you, you put that outfit on for nothing. Although," he added as an afterthought, "I wouldn't throw it away or anything. Might come in handy another time."

Dropping the covers back down over them, Casey resumed his comfortable embrace with Ilsa and relaxed a bit more, intending to fall asleep. He was wide awake a moment later when Ilsa began to speak again.

"Casey, do you want to have children?" she asked with a worried tone. "Because I do."

Turning onto his side so he could look into Ilsa's face, Casey replied, "I think I do, yes." After searching Ilsa's dark and clouded eyes, he amended his answer. "Yes, Ilsa. Yes, I do want children with you."

He kissed her tenderly, the warm rush of feeling taking him by surprise as he internalized his declaration and found that he had been speaking the truth. When they had finished kissing, they lay quietly, simply holding each other, to make the moment last. Finally, Ilsa stirred a bit, ready to continue their discussion.

"Casey, I could probably safely have one or two children at my age. Maybe more because I'm in good health. But would you consider adoption if it came to that?"

Taking a moment to mull it over, Casey replied, "Yes, of course. It would still be our child, right? And depending on where we looked to adopt, we could give a kid a fighting chance that may not have had one before."

"See, I knew that bad guy thing was just an act," Ilsa joked, poking Casey in the ribs and tickling. "You're just a giant marshmallow inside. You're going to make a great dad except the children will walk all over you."

"Well, I've had a little practice now with Chuck and Sarah's kids, at least, so it's not exactly terra incognita. I think the hard part might be the pregnant wife with all the hormones."

Casey tickled Ilsa's ribs now. He was enjoying the feeling of her squirming against him when she grabbed his hand to get him to stop.

"I don't think that will be too much of a problem. I come from good stock. You know, work in the fields in the morning, have the baby over the lunch break, back to the fields with an infant strapped to your back in the afternoon. We Trinchina women pop the little _chikies_ out like grape seeds," Ilsa said, laughing.

"Oh, there's a lovely image," Casey observed. "I'll have to remind you of that one when the time comes."

"Seriously, though, Casey," Ilsa said, her tone matching her words, "I've been thinking. What if you get killed on a mission before I get pregnant? Would you be willing to go right away, even before we're married, and freeze some sperm so I could have your child if something happens? At least that way, I would still have part of you with me."

Casey could see immediately how serious Ilsa was about the subject. He'd always been very practical and realistic about his job but had never had to think along these lines before. After only a moment's hesitation, however, to assimilate the idea, he responded, "Of course, _moya lyubov_. We'll go to the NSA offices on Monday and make the arrangements."

Ilsa quickly wrapped her arms around Casey's neck and whispered in his ear, "Oh, John Casey, I do love you so," before kissing him enthusiastically. When she was done, she noticed a glint in Casey's eye that hadn't been there earlier.

"I've changed my mind," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "I don't like your little outfit after all. As a matter of fact, I think you should take it off right now. Here, I'll help you."

Ilsa giggled as Casey made good on his offer and tossed the bits of gauzy fabric to land on top of his pile of clothes on the floor.

"So you think my baby seeds are the best, do you?" Casey whispered between kisses along Ilsa's neck.

"Well, that remains to be seen," she replied, reaching around his back to caress his shoulders. "But I am very fond of the delivery system."

* * *

Ellie, sitting up in bed beside Devon, asked, "Honey, do you want a boy or a girl?"

"I want a girl," he responded right away.

"You answered that quickly. How can you be so sure, Devon?" she inquired, turning around to face him.

"Because the girl I want is you," he replied, pulling Ellie into a tight embrace and kissing her hungrily as he turned out the light.

* * *

Sarah was brushing her hair out, the last thing she usually did before getting into bed. When she was finished, she joined Chuck under the covers. She was about to reach over and turn the bedside light off when she noticed Chuck's worried expression.

"What's wrong, honey? Did something else happen today that I don't know about yet?" she asked, putting a hand on Chuck's chest and waiting for his reply.

"Sarah, Ellie said yesterday you had a problem. What was she talking about?" Chuck asked. He flipped over onto one hip and tucked a stray tendril of Sarah's hair behind her ear.

Sarah thought for a moment then slowly smiled. "Oh, probably that she thought I was envious about her pregnancy."

"Are you?" Chuck asked simply.

"Well, yes, I guess I am, a bit. But, Chuck, we already have three children. And aren't we getting a little too old to have another baby in the house now?"

Chuck smiled back at Sarah and said, "Well, Ilsa's older than you and Casey is definitely older than all of us and I believe they're going to go ahead. Sarah, if you want another child, then so do I."

"Chuck," Sarah exclaimed, "you are the most wonderful man in the world!" and grabbed him into a tight embrace.

"Besides," Chuck continued when Sarah had loosened her grip on him again, "I want to try for one of each."

"What do you mean, one of each?" Sarah asked quizzically. "We already have a two-and-one combo."

"I mean boy, girl, gamer, silly," Chuck said as he pulled Sarah close again for a passionate kiss. "Now you just lie still there, woman. I'm going to need some practice here so we can get this just right."

* * *

_chikies – okay, I admit, I made this word up, but it sounds like it might be Russian_

_moya lyubov_ – my love


	15. Clinical

The three couples sat around the Bartowski kitchen table once again drinking coffee and working through problems. Ellie and Devon and the kids would be leaving that afternoon, and Ellie was determined to have as much time with the other adults as she could before then.

"So if you go right away to your OBGYN and don't wait until the deed is done, you can get started on a health plan that will make a good environment for your baby," she finished off, pleased that she was there to contribute to the family planning.

"Those are good suggestions, Ellie," Sarah said. She turned to Chuck and declared, "You're cutting down on red meat and sugar, mister."

Ilsa merely looked at Casey, a smile on her face. He put his arm around her shoulder and said, "Whatever you want, my love," before kissing her and turning back to face the others, prepared to accept their teasing.

Instead, he got a look of approval from Sarah and an, "Awww, John, that's so sweet!" from Ellie. Chuck and Devon didn't dare to comment after that reaction from their wives, but Casey could see they wanted to. He shot them a look that was the grown-up equivalent of sticking his tongue out at them and just sat there looking smug.

* * *

The rest of the Woodcombs were already in the car ready to go, but Ellie was making them wait. She just couldn't seem to let Chuck go. Literally.

He patted her on the back as she clung to him like a leech and said, "Now, Ellie, you know it won't be as long this time before we see each other again."

Ellie loosened off her hold on her little brother and looked at him, a sheen of tears in her eyes.

"I know, Chuck. It's just that with me and Devon having a baby and you and Sarah planning on having another one and Casey and Ilsa probably doing the same, it's just – I get so –"

Chuck held his sister closely again as she crushed him even more tightly than before and sniffed loudly into his shirt.

Casey, standing nearby, leaned over to Ilsa and whispered in her ear, "You see? Hormones," then neatly sidestepped the elbow that she aimed at his ribs.

* * *

When the car had finally driven away, with Ellie straining to look back at the group on the lawn until they had turned the first corner, the little group sending them off started to walk back towards the house. Chuck and John were the last, standing at the curb for a while longer and looking in the direction the car had taken.

"Girls are nice, aren't they, dad?" John said wistfully, turning his head to look at his father, who was a bit taken off guard by this declaration from his ten-year-old son.

"Yes, they are nice, John," Chuck replied, putting his arm around John's shoulder. After a moment of silence, Chuck, a worried frown crossing his features, added, "But you're not going to try to kiss them all, are you?"

John considered his father's joking question seriously, not catching the sarcasm in it.

"Probably not, dad. I mean, how could I? I'd have to do it full-time and I don't think I'd really want to kiss them all anyways."

Chuck laughed to himself and ruffled his son's hair before turning around with him to go to the house. "It's probably just as well, son," he said. "Because then I'd have to go and talk to all of their fathers."

* * *

It was Monday morning, and Casey, true to his word, had come with Ilsa to the local NSA medical facilities to put their family plans into action. Casey shifted nervously in the waiting room chair, gripping Ilsa's hand tightly and alternately checking the clock on the wall and his wristwatch every thirty seconds.

"I don't know why you're so nervous, my love. It's not like you've never done it before. And I'll be there to help you out, so it should be over in no time."

Casey whipped his head around to look at Ilsa, who was chuckling gently.

"It's not funny," he said, petulantly. I don't know whether I'll be able to relax. It's not quite the same thing, you know. It's like all of a sudden I'm a performing chimp in the circus."

"Well, my love, just think of it as making a sacrifice for your country. And if that doesn't work, I hear they have a nice selection of magazines."

"Magazines?!" Casey exclaimed, loudly enough that the lab technician at the desk raised her head and looked at them, causing Casey to hunch his shoulders over even more. "Ilsa, I don't think I'm going to be needing –"

"And I don't think you will either, Casey. But what you need to do is stop working yourself up. We'll just pretend we're at home and everything will be fine."

The technician came around the counter at that moment and handed Ilsa a tray of containers, carefully explaining just what was required for testing and freezable samples. Casey stood passively, scowling at the woman all the while, not paying attention to a word she was saying.

Finally, when Ilsa was sure she understood the technician's instructions, she took hold of Casey's elbow with her free hand and wheeled him towards the room provided. As they passed a magazine rack hanging outside the door, she ordered, "Casey, grab a few of those, will you?"

* * *

Later that evening, after the Bartowski children were in bed, the four adults sat around the kitchen table, as was their habit, and drank a cup of coffee together. Casey and Ilsa had told Chuck and Sarah of their plans to ensure that Ilsa could still have Casey's baby even if something tragic happened to the agent, but they had asked at the same time to keep it among the four of them, both for the sake of their own privacy and their covers.

"So, how did it go today, Casey?" Chuck asked, a perfectly innocent look on his face.

Casey merely grunted a number eight grunt without looking at his friend.

"That good, huh?" Chuck persisted, smiling broadly now. "That must be a little strange, in a clinic and all. It's a good thing Ilsa was there to give you a hand – I mean – that's not – you see – Sarah, help me here?"

And now it was Casey's turn to smile as his friend turned a bright shade of pink.


	16. Casey's Contributions

Ilsa sat at the breakfast table staring at the small vase of fresh flowers that Casey had placed in the center. She listened to him fussing around at the stove in the kitchen behind her, a frown pulling the corners of her mouth down as she mulled things over. This getting pregnant thing wasn't as easy as it sounded. Maybe she was too old.

Casey appeared at her side, smiling cheerily and whistling as he shoved half the serving of scrambled egg whites onto her plate then the other half onto his own. Ilsa picked up her fork and was about to take a taste when Casey shouted out, "Wait, wait!" and ran back to the counter to grab a small bowl, returning to the table with it.

When he sprinkled chopped chives over top of the eggs and grinned down at Ilsa as though he had just invented the most delicious delicacy known to mankind, her heart melted and she had to blink back a tear. He was such a sweetheart.

Before sitting down, Casey leaned over and kissed Ilsa on the top of her head, then untied the apron that was around his waist and tossed it onto the empty chair next to him. He added some chives to his own plate and dug in, chewing enthusiastically, his happiness radiating out from his every movement, causing Ilsa to finally smile too.

She picked up her fork and scooped up a large bite of the eggs, put it into her mouth, chewed twice, and abruptly stopped, her eyes growing wide.

"Casey," she mumbled around the eggs in her mouth to the man next to her, who was still busily working his way through the food, "what is in these?"

"Psyllium," came the reply, equally garbled. "The lady at the health food store said it's good for digestion, you know, keep things moving. Oh, and also some nutritional yeast. The yeast is to cultivate healthy intestinal flora."

As Casey finished speaking, Ilsa heaved once with a hand over her mouth, got up, and ran from the room. Turning to look through the empty kitchen door, Casey asked, "Is that morning sickness, honey?"

* * *

Chuck could hear the banging of a hammer on nails and the whine of an electric table saw from where he was sitting on the front porch. Oddly enough, it seemed to be coming from Casey's garage. When his curiosity became too great to hold back, Chuck made his way next door and stood there, watching in fascination as Casey wielded the various woodworking tools like a pro.

Stopping for a moment and brushing sawdust away from his forehead with the back of his hand, Casey placed his safety goggles on said forehead – now streaked with some machine oil as well as sawdust and sweat – and lowered the filter mask he was wearing before turning to Chuck, who was waiting patiently for an explanation, arms crossed and lounging against the upright support between the two open garage doors.

"What, Bartowski?" the agent growled, apparently eager to get back to whatever it was he was doing.

"I just wondered what you're making, Casey," Chuck replied, moving a little closer to the work area.

"What?" Casey yelled, screwing up his face a bit.

"I said –"

Chuck broke off when he saw what the problem was and approached Casey, reaching up to lift the ear protectors he was wearing from the sides of his head.

"Oh, thanks," Casey said, a little confused. "I forgot I had those on."

"I said," Chuck tried again, "what are you making?"

"Well, if you must know," Casey said as he held up the piece of wood he had been trimming and closed one eye to sight along it, checking that the cut was true, "it's something for the baby."

"I assume you're talking about your future child. I think Sarah would go ballistic if Ilsa was already pregnant and she were the last to find out," Chuck said, laughing a bit.

"Yes, Intersect, it's for our future child. Now will you get out of here and let me get back to work?"

"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?" Chuck persisted.

"No," Casey grunted before pulling his safety gear back into place.

* * *

Later that evening, after Casey had showered away all the grime and sweat that his woodworking had created, he snuggled in bed close to Ilsa and began to nuzzle her neck and ear as he got comfortable. His plan was to hold her like this and cherish her, let her know how much he wanted to be with her, and then maybe fall into a dead sleep and snore loudly for the rest of the night while hogging all the covers.

Ilsa, just as curious as Chuck, shifted around a bit so Casey could get at that hard-to-reach spot that always sent shivers down though her shoulders and asked, "Darling, what are you making in the garage?"

"A present for the baby," Casey replied, busily nibbling his way closer to the sensitive stretch of skin that he knew would make Ilsa turn to putty.

"Oh, that's such a nice thing to do – ahhh, yes, right there – but what is it?" Ilsa wasn't going to give up no matter how much Casey tried to distract her.

Casey paused a moment, lifting his head to look at Ilsa's face. "Just a little contribution to the whole baby project. I feel as though you're going to be stuck with all the hard work."

"I wouldn't worry about it, my love. You've been holding up your end in the contribution department," Ilsa purred.

Suddenly, Casey didn't feel the least bit sleepy anymore.

* * *

"So, Ilsa, what's the mystery woodworking project for the baby?" Chuck asked when he finally cornered Ilsa alone in her backyard.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she replied, putting her hands on her hips and looking at Chuck skeptically.

"I'll believe you, Ilsa. I promise, I'll believe you. It's killing me, not knowing what it is." Chuck's wheedling tone was delivered to perfection, and Ilsa took her hands away from her hips and began to smile, checking around first to make sure that Casey wasn't lurking nearby.

She put a hand on Chuck's shoulder and drew him closer, whispering, "It's a gun cabinet."

"A what?" Chuck cried, quickly placing the side of his finger over his lips and looking around too wearing a guilty expression.

"A gun cabinet," Ilsa repeated. "Casey's logic is that with a small child around the house and all the hardware we have between the two of us, a secure gun cabinet is the best present he can make for our baby."

Chuck stood up straight, looked at Ilsa, blinked a couple of times, and said, "Huh. You know, I think that actually makes sense."


	17. John vs Uncle Johnny

"Again."

Casey, standing on the outside edge of the floor mat, delivered a series of curt orders that were completely devoid of expression. John had no way to tell whether he was doing well or poorly and it was starting to get on his nerves. Even the teachers in the CIA school that John and CJ and Lisa attended were a little more forthcoming with their praise and encouragement, which was not really saying much. Uncle Johnny was simply unreadable.

John, almost in tears, paused and turned to face the big man, his hands spread out to the sides. "But how was that last one, Uncle Johnny – I mean Sensei? At least let me know if I got it right or not."

"Whether you got it right or wrong is immaterial. And it is by no means the last one. Again."

John searched Casey's face for any sign of approval or disappointment and, finding neither, began once more the sequence of martial arts moves that he had been repeating over and over for the past two hours. When he finished with the required kicks accompanied by a savage yell, his mouth pulled back in a grimace, John waited for the verdict and was more than a little disheartened to hear in a completely neutral tone "Again," from Casey's mouth.

However, this time, when John didn't complain or hesitate or give any sign from his facial expression or his body signals that he was going to resist and instead simply took up the starting position and commenced the sequence of moves, Casey allowed a glimmer of a smile to flash on his face behind the boy's back.

* * *

"I don't know, Sarah, I'm worried."

Ilsa sat at the Bartowski kitchen table drinking Bancha tea and watching Sarah as she prepared some equipment for a short in-and-out mission that she and Casey had been assigned that evening. Something to do with a forgery ring operating in the LA area that was laundering their fake bills to set up and finance a terrorist network in Pakistan.

Sarah looked up from the handgun she had been checking and placed it on the table when she saw the look on Ilsa's face. Coming around and sitting down beside her friend, she took Ilsa's hands in hers and said, "Ilsa, I think it's a little too soon to get upset, don't you? I mean, I know what a great guy Casey is probably almost as much as you do, but it could be him as much as it is you at this point. Why don't you wait until you get the lab results from the NSA and then go from there?"

"But, Sarah, you don't understand. My mother used to always drag out the old chestnut about not being able to brush her teeth with my dad's toothbrush or she'd get pregnant, and believe me, she wasn't kidding. The same with all my aunts on both sides of the family. And now all my girl cousins. If a Trinchina female walked into the room, you knew she was coming by the big bump that showed in the door first. It was the women with flat fronts that felt out of place there."

Ilsa freed one hand to wipe away a tear that was threatening to spill over before continuing. "I just don't understand why I'm not pregnant yet. I want it so badly. It's like Casey said, I never thought it was something I would get to have and now I'm desperately afraid that it won't happen after all."

Sarah, taking on the mothering role for the older woman, pulled Ilsa's head to her shoulder and rocked them back and forth, letting Ilsa sob out her frustration. When the NSA agent had finished, Sarah reached for a tissue, dried Ilsa's eyes, and said, "Everything's going to be fine, Ilsa, you'll see. When the time is right it'll happen. I just know it."

Ilsa looked into Sarah's eyes, wanting to believe, and asked in a whisper, "Why?"

Sarah, with all the confidence and optimism she could muster, replied, "Because you and Casey are just too loving and deserving to not get a child, one way or the other."

* * *

Shortly after Chuck swung his car into the driveway returning from work, Casey's black SUV pulled into the spot beside him. Both men got out of their cars and Chuck reached into the back seat for his briefcase, closing the door and activating the security system with his key remote control. He waited before going up to the house until Casey had also retrieved a large package from the back seat of his car. It was Chuck's second son.

John was unceremoniously draped over Casey's shoulder in a fireman's hold, his arms and legs limp and his head wagging around on a completely relaxed neck. Casey reached into the car again and pulled out a small gym bag, turning to close the car door with one hip before coming around to join Chuck at the bottom of the porch stairs.

"So did you kill him?" Chuck asked conversationally.

"Just about," Casey grunted with a smirk on his face. "Knocked a bit of the starch out of him, at least. He's a good kid, Chuck, and he's going to be a great agent if he chooses to go that way. Lots of nerve, balls of brass for such a young boy. Just the kind of agent trainee the NSA is looking for, anyway."

Casey, with John still dead asleep over his shoulder, looked at the ground for a moment before continuing. "I hope you don't mind that I've taken him under my wing. I don't want to step on any toes here."

Chuck reached up with his free hand and patted his friend on the biceps. "No, not at all. As far as I'm concerned and I think as far as the kids are concerned, you really are their uncle. I know Sarah has no problem with it."

"Besides," Chuck continued, smiling broadly, "that way, I get another brother too, so it's all good."

Casey, who might have growled or made a face or pulled a gun or, at the very least, punched somebody in the nose at a statement like this from Chuck in the past, smiled in return and reached around Chuck's back to give him an affectionate and brotherly thump between the shoulder blades that almost knocked the smaller man off of his feet and then proceeded to take his young burden into the house.


	18. No Longer Loved

Sarah and Casey were just returning from their night mission. Neither was fatigued, however. They had only had to climb to a roof via a fire escape, creep across undetected and rappel through a small skylight into a cell-like room surrounded by armed guards. Once there, they quietly copied onto a CIA memory chip the contents of a database about a suspected terrorist group that was forming in Pakistan and went back out the way they had come in.

Casey pulled his car into the driveway quietly, not wishing to disturb the neighbors, and turned off the engine. Sarah, who had leaned down to grab her kit bag from the car floor in front of her, was the first to notice the narrow beam of light that was moving around on the second floor of her house.

"Casey, I think we have a burglar," she said, clicking open the car door and slipping out.

Casey rounded the back of the car and joined her, looking up to the bathroom window of Chuck and Sarah's house before turning back to Sarah and signaling that she should enter the house from the back second-story deck while he would go in through the front door and up the stairs. Nodding her head in assent, Sarah sped on cat's feet around to the patio area.

Once there, she nimbly scaled a corner drainpipe using the brackets that were holding it in place and some ornamental lattice work for foot- and handholds. As she vaulted over the railing and onto the deck, she reached around to her back and pulled out the small lock picking set that the CIA had issued her. It was just a matter of a moment before she had gained access to the house, and she approached the bathroom door, gun drawn, just as Casey crested the top of the staircase and silently closed the gap between them from the other end.

Casey motioned with a sharp jerk of his gun barrel that Sarah should go first as he swung around behind her to give her cover, and Sarah neatly shouldered the door open, splintering the door frame a bit and hoping the sudden noise and movement would startle the intruder long enough so the two agents could get the upper hand.

A moment later, it was Sarah and Casey who were startled, however, as they dropped their gun arms and gaped at Lisa, who was standing on the little step stool that was kept in the bathroom so she could reach the sink and trying to keep a pencil flashlight pointed towards the mirror so she could see to finish cutting off her hair. She was apparently about halfway through the job, as evidenced by the straight blonde locks lying like shocks of straw all over the floor.

As Sarah flicked on the light, she exclaimed, "Lisa, honey, what are you doing?!"

Lisa looked up, scissors still in one hand and a fistful of uncut hair in the other, and cried out, "Momma, Uncle Johnny!"

She put the scissors down on the edge of the sink as her face crumpled and tears started to flow, creating runnels through the makeup she had smeared thickly all over her face, and when she sniffed loudly and wiped her nose and mouth with the back of her hand, it came away with a slash of Sarah's lipstick across it and gave one side of her face the look of a sad clown.

Casey had re-holstered his gun and relieved Sarah of her piece when she thrust it blindly in his direction. She got down on one knee and wrapped her arms around her daughter, who was not crying so much as vibrating in impotent rage, which took Sarah by surprise.

Chuck arrived at this point, still wrapping a robe around himself and tying it up, and said, "What's going on, guys?"

"Don't know yet," Casey answered. "We just got home and saw the flashlight. We thought it might be a burglar."

Chuck looked at him and nodded, mouthing, "Oh," and waited to see what was going to happen next.

Sarah had finally gotten Lisa to calm down a little bit and asked her, "Lisa, why did you put on momma's makeup and cut your hair?"

"I can't tell you," came the petulant reply.

The little girl was standing stiffly in Sarah's embrace and Sarah pulled back a bit so she could see her daughter's face.

"Why not, sweetie? You know you can tell your momma anything."

The three agents were taken aback by the little girl's reply.

"Can't blow my cover," she said, pouting at the floor before looking up defiantly and giving each of the three a pointed look in turn.

Sarah turned her head to look at Chuck and Casey, unsure of what to do next. Casey gave Sarah a facial shrug, as if to say, _She's right, can't blow a cover_, and Chuck cocked his head to one side for a moment to think before he asked, "Lisa, you don't have to tell us anything that would blow your cover, but were you planning on going away?"

"Yes, daddy," the little girl admitted, softening her stance a little so that Sarah could pick her up.

"And you were changing your appearance before going, is that right?"

"Yes, daddy," repeated Lisa. "I even picked out a new name too," she offered, reaching out for Chuck's neck.

Sarah transferred the little girl over to Chuck, since her husband seemed to be making some progress, and stood back with Casey to listen.

"I won't ask you where you were planning on going and I won't ask you what your new name was going to be, because that's your cover, Lisa, and we all know how important a solid cover is," Chuck said, looking into his daughter's eyes. "But can you tell me why you were going to leave, my sweet one?"

"Because you and momma don't want me anymore," Lisa stated matter-of-factly.

Sarah opened her mouth in astonishment but made no move forwards, leaving the resolution of this shocking development up to her husband.

"And how do you figure that, Lisa, that we don't want you?" Chuck asked gently.

Lisa, perched in the crook of Chuck's arm, looked down at her fingers as she tried to clean them of lipstick and makeup by intently rubbing them together.

"Auntie Ellie said," she whispered, raising her head to look into Chuck's eyes. The sadness he saw there was indescribable, and it took a lot of control for Chuck to continue with his questions so he could find out exactly what the cause of his daughter's distress was.

"Did she say that to you, Lisa? Or did you just hear her talking to me and momma about babies when they were leaving the other day?"

Lisa solemnly nodded and said, "I heard you talking. But you're going to get another baby and there are only two bedrooms for kids so you're going to give my room to the new baby and stop loving me."

Chuck, relieved, pulled Lisa's head to his shoulder and held her tightly before saying, "Lisa, honey, we're not going to stop loving you if we have another baby. And as for the rooms, at first the baby can stay in with me and momma. Later, when the baby gets bigger, we can figure out what to do for bedrooms. If it's a baby girl, she can maybe share your room, and if it's a baby boy, CJ and John could move down into the basement. I know they'd like that, anyway. But it's not something you have to worry about, my darling daughter."

Lisa pulled back from Chuck's embrace and smiled a lopsided smile at Chuck, then at Sarah and Casey, before turning back to Chuck and declaring happily, "Oh, daddy, momma, Uncle Johnny, I'll stay, only please make a baby girl!"


	19. CJ's Dilemma

Sarah was just finishing a touch-up to her makeup when Chuck walked into their bedroom. He stopped loosening his tie and stared at his wife, who shot him a warm smile via her reflection in the dresser mirror.

"Sarah, what did you do?" Chuck asked, dumbfounded.

Sarah turned around and lifted a palm to cup the bottom edge of her hair, which had moved upwards by several inches since Chuck had seen her last and now flipped in towards Sarah's earlobes in a cute bob.

"Do you like it?" Sarah asked while continuing to pose for her husband, her eyes twinkling.

"I'm not sure," Chuck replied, moving closer to get a better look. He put his hands on Sarah's hips and twirled her around, first to one side and then to the other and, seeing what he liked, lowered his head to kiss the exposed length of her neck. "The easier access is an improvement, anyway," he declared after a moment's experimentation. "Why did you cut it?"

"Well," Sarah explained, "Lisa and I went to the salon first thing this morning to get her hair repaired. When it was all trimmed away and she looked in the mirror, it finally hit her that she had cut it off. She was really upset about it and I wanted to show her it wasn't such a big deal because it will grow back. I needed her to know that it was more important to us all that she hadn't run away than whether or not her hair was long, so I got mine cut too."

"Well, it suits you," Chuck said, smiling broadly. "And you're a great mom. And a great wife. And a great secret agent. And a great cook. And a great lover. And a great –"

"And you talk too much," Sarah interjected as she reached up to draw Chuck's mouth down to hers.

* * *

John and CJ walked the short distance to the local art supply store after school. They had a bit of time to spare before the school bus picked them up, and CJ needed some special drawing pencils for a project he was working on. John was tagging along to keep his brother company, and as they walked, the younger twin was grilling his older brother. He wasn't having much success.

"Have you kissed a girl yet, CJ?" John asked ingenuously.

"Nope."

"Do you want to?" the blond twin continued.

"Don't know."

John was doggedly persistent. "Well, have you even thought about it?"

"Maybe."

"How can you say 'maybe?'" John asked. "Either you have or you haven't."

"Okay, then, none of your business," CJ said, starting to sound a bit impatient.

"But I'm your brother!" John exclaimed. "Everything you do is my business!"

CJ had regained his composure once more and turned his head to look at John with an amused smirk.

"I don't know how you figure that, John, but I have a question for you. What makes you the kissing expert? Just because you've done it once you think everybody should?"

"Twice," came the quick reply. After a moment's hesitation, John changed his statement. "Okay, once, but if dad and Uncle Devon hadn't come down to the basement, it would have been twice. You haven't even been alone with a girl long enough to get that close."

CJ stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to face his twin. "And it's still none of your business, so drop it, will you?"

Finally giving up, John had the last word. "You just don't know what you're missing, is all, CJ."

Just after they entered the store, CJ in the lead, John had to stop suddenly when his brother abruptly pulled up short in front of him.

"Hey, keep going!" instructed John. He put his hands on CJ's back and tried to push, but CJ was glued to the floor and staring at the group of three girls who were looking at some drawing pads farther down the aisle.

After a moment, John figured out what was distracting CJ and he smiled to himself while whispering in CJ's ear, "Never thought about kissing a girl, huh? I wonder which one it is."

Circling around his brother, John sauntered down the aisle towards the girls, his hands thrust in his pockets to make himself appear more casual. When he looked back over his shoulder at CJ, his brother was staring vacantly at the floor, his face a bright red, and John winked before once again facing the way he was walking and calling out, "Hi, ladies, what are you doing here?"

CJ turned abruptly on his heel and scooted down the next aisle to look for the pencils he wanted. His blush was beginning to fade when he found the correct display and was able to concentrate on checking what was available, and he was so intent on choosing his purchase he jumped a bit when a girl's voice intruded on his thoughts.

"Hi, Chuck," the voice said shyly.

CJ's blush returned and his power of speech deserted him for a moment when he realized how close the girl was standing to him. He drew in some air and steeled himself before turning to face her.

"Hi, Gabrielle," he managed before his speech left him again.

"You can call me Gaby," she said, lowering her eyes to the floor at her audacity and then raising them again to look adoringly into CJ's eyes.

For some reason that CJ couldn't even begin to fathom, her gaze gave him a feeling of courage. He smiled at the girl and said gently, "And you can call me CJ, Gaby. Everybody does."

Gaby giggled a bit, which made CJ blush again, although not as much as before, and he laughed too and said, "Gaby, do you want to walk back to the bus with me? And maybe we can sit together?"

"I'd like that, CJ," Gaby replied happily. "I just have to go and tell the others that we're leaving now. I'll be right back."

After Gaby had gone over to the other aisle to talk to her girlfriends, John approached his brother and whispered, "You can thank me later," before turning and going out to the street.

CJ spun around to follow him and was almost at the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard the words, "Stop right there, boy, and empty your pockets."

CJ felt a crushing sense of dread as he realized what the man was referring to. He turned around to face the store security guard and started to explain. "But I only –"

"Don't give me any trouble, now, boy. Just empty your pockets," the man said sternly, and when CJ pulled a handful of pencils out of his jacket pocket where he must have unconsciously shoved them when Gaby had spoken to him, the man put in a radio call to the police. When he was done, he looked at the crestfallen boy in front of him and said, "We have zero tolerance for shoplifting here. Now just stick around and you can explain it to the cops."

John, who had come back into the store when CJ hadn't joined him right away, approached to console his brother. He put his arm around CJ's shoulders and said quietly, "It's okay. Dad'll fix it."

Upon hearing this, the security guard commented, "That's the problem. Dad'll fix it and you'll come back and do it again. You kids today just don't get it."

Suddenly, CJ was aware that there were three other pairs of eyes on him, those of Gaby and the two girls with her. They scowled at him disapprovingly, and when CJ raised his hands out in front of himself in a supplicating gesture and said, "Gaby, wait, I didn't –" she hissed in a very haughty tone of voice, "Save it, CJ. I don't hang around with criminals," and left the store, her friends following behind her.

CJ looked as if the air had leaked out of him. In all of their ten-plus years together, John had never seen his brother like this and it unnerved him. John usually relied on CJ to get him out of the stupid scrapes he was prone to. Now it was John's turn to help his brother and he came through admirably, saying, "Don't worry, CJ, it'll all work out. I know you didn't mean to take those pencils even if nobody else believes you, and dad'll be here soon. He'll know what to do."


	20. The Lockup

While they were waiting for someone to arrive, John kept up a steady stream of chatter. The security guard waited quietly to one side just watching the boys to make sure they didn't try to run away. He could see how scared the shoplifter was and how much he was depending on the blond-haired boy to help him out so he let them talk. He had two kids of his own around the same age and he hated to see any child make bad choices. Maybe this experience would scare the boys straight.

Chuck and Sarah came through the door just behind two police officers, and as Sarah ran to CJ and crouched down to hold him tightly, the last reserve of energy that had been keeping him standing upright and able to hold back his tears deserted him, and he sobbed on his mother's shoulder. Sarah crooned softly into her son's ear as she stroked his hair, but between the murmured words whispered one extra one – "Cover" – and CJ had enough presence of mind to nod slightly to let her know he had understood.

While Sarah was comforting CJ, Chuck stood and listened to the guard's account of events as he made a statement to the police. When the man had finished, he looked at Chuck for a moment. He didn't say anything in words, but his expression was telling Chuck that the guard hoped that this was just a phase for his son that could be survived and forgotten. Chuck, on the other hand, was hoping that some kind of misunderstanding would soon come to light.

The police officers turned to CJ next and asked him a few questions about what had happened. CJ had stopped crying and was wiping his cheeks with a sleeve, his head hanging down and his eyes on the floor.

"I didn't take the pencils," he explained. "At least I didn't take them on purpose."

"But you did put them in your pocket and you were going to leave the store with them, is that right?" the first officer asked, his own pencil hovering above his notebook.

"Y-y-yes," CJ answered. He looked first at Sarah and then at Chuck, attempting to apologize with his eyes. "But I wasn't trying to steal them."

Chuck and Sarah had formulated a plan on the way over and Chuck thought it was time to put it into action.

"Look, officer," Chuck interjected after glancing at Sarah, "can we take this somewhere else? Somewhere a little less public?"

"Well, sir," the officer responded, "we can take it to the station. Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

That was exactly what Chuck wanted to do, and he nodded his head in the affirmative and accompanied it with an emphatic, "Yes."

The officer slipped his pencil into the holder on the side of his notebook and put the notebook back into his pocket while his partner radioed the station to say they were bringing a suspect in. CJ felt a physical pain to think that they were calling him a suspect in a crime, but when he looked at Chuck and saw his father wink at him so the police officers couldn't see it, his dark mood lightened a little bit. John had been right. His dad did know what to do.

* * *

John was disappointed that CJ hadn't been slapped into handcuffs, which would have been so cool, but CJ was grateful. Things were already bad enough, what with all the attention they were attracting as the group came out of the store and CJ was led to the police cruiser. Gaby and her friends had unfortunately stuck around, and CJ felt as though the girl's disapproving look was drilling into the back of his head. After the officer had put CJ into the prisoner compartment of the car and closed the door, CJ hazarded a look at the group of children on the sidewalk that was getting larger by the second, and as the cruiser pulled away, they remained to gossip about what had happened.

As Chuck and Sarah and John followed in their car to the station, John explained what he thought had occurred while glossing over the part he had played in convincing Gaby to go over and talk to CJ. Chuck and Sarah glanced at each other for a moment, suspecting that there was a bit of the story that John was leaving out, but it was something they could deal with later, and Chuck pulled into the visitor parking area of the station, where the three Bartowskis left the car and went inside the building.

The desk sergeant looked up when they came in and asked, "You here for the Bartowski kid?"

When Chuck said yes, the officer added, "We just have a bit of a process before you can see him, sir, to record that he was brought into the station. He'll be fine. If you and your wife could just wait about ten minutes over there, I'll let you know when you can go in to see him."

Chuck looked at Sarah and she nodded the tiniest bit, so he sat down on one of the chairs indicated to wait. None of the three talked since they knew there were probably recording devices all around them of one sort or another, and Sarah, on a motherly impulse, hugged John close to her as sort of a substitute for CJ. Even though she knew her oldest son was smart enough to know how to handle himself, she was still worried in that irrational way that mothers have, whether they're secret agents or not.

* * *

CJ had dreaded they were going to put him in a cell but the officer led him to an interrogation room and sat him down, taking the chair opposite. He then proceeded to ask for information such as name, address, age and so on, making notes on a form. CJ started to relax a little and looked around.

If he were to become a spy, a room like this might be an everyday thing for him. CJ had always liked to hear Uncle Johnny's interrogation stories, the ones where the agent got the best of an unwary perp by twisting his questions around so that even the Sphinx would be confused. But it was one thing to be on that side of the table or looking in through the one-way glass and another thing to be sitting on this side, the bad-guy side, and having somebody else ask the questions. CJ let his shoulders sag at this thought and frowned sadly at the tabletop.

Suddenly, the door opened and his parents came through followed by an officer who must have been somebody really important. The man who had been asking questions and filling out the form sprang to his feet and stood at attention as soon as he recognized who it was, anyway, and when he was summarily dismissed, he hotfooted it out of the room in a flash.

When the door was closed again, the uniformed man smiled warmly at CJ and held out his hand for a shake. "Your parents tell me that you're quite the artist," he said conversationally. "Maybe you'd consider doing sketches for our forensics unit some day, son."

CJ shook the man's hand and smiled tentatively, then relaxed enough so he could give a real smile, replying, "Thank you, sir. I'll consider it."

Turning to Chuck and Sarah, the man said, "Sorry about this, Agents, but I can see why you brought it to the station. Your sons were very smart in keeping their covers. I hope we didn't scare this one too much, though. And you," he continued, turning to CJ, "don't let the ladies turn your head. They can be a lot of trouble."

CJ laughed a bit at this but nodded in agreement with the man's statement.

As Chuck and Sarah and CJ headed for the door to leave the room, Chuck shook the man's hand and said, "Thanks again, Chief," and the man replied, "Not at all. Glad I could help."

Just as Chuck reached for the doorknob, the man stopped and, with a fond and faraway look in his eyes, said, "You just be sure and tell Diane Beckman that Pookie says hello, will you?"


	21. Authority Figure

"So what was it like riding in the back of a police car?" John asked eagerly. "Was it cool and scary?"

The family was sitting around the dining room table having their supper later than usual after getting back from the police station. John had been peppering CJ with questions for about ten minutes and Sarah could see that the boy was too emotionally drained to handle his twin right now. She turned her head and directed The Look at John.

"Please stop bothering your brother, John. I'm sure after he's had some sleep he'll be able to talk to you about it, but right now, let him be."

* * *

CJ had also been too emotionally drained to eat his dessert so Chuck took him upstairs to help him get into bed while Sarah stayed in the dining room with John and Lisa to give father and son some quiet time together.

Chuck thought for a moment he was going to have to carry CJ up the stairs. The way the boy's shoulders sagged as he laboriously pulled his feet upwards one by one to negotiate each step really had Chuck worried. He settled for a steadying palm in the center of CJ's back and an encouraging, "Up we go, that's it," before steering the boy into the room he shared with his twin.

Chuck decided that CJ could go one night without a bath and he made his son promise to have a shower in the morning before school instead as he helped to change day clothes for night clothes and tucked CJ into bed, snugging the covers up tightly to give the boy a sense of security.

Sitting down on a chair that he pulled up from behind himself, Chuck asked gently, "Now, what is it besides this whole pencil misunderstanding that's still bothering you?"

CJ looked at his father as though trying to decide whether to confide in him before opening his mouth to speak.

"There's this girl, dad," he began.

Chuck's stomach lurched a bit at this information. Both his little boys were growing up so fast. He was going to have to start practicing so he could make the mental shift and begin thinking about them as young men when the time came.

Leaning forwards in the chair a little and lacing his fingers together so his hands wouldn't betray his rush of feeling, Chuck managed a quick, "Yes?"

"Well, you see," CJ continued, now looking Chuck straight in the eyes, "I like her, dad. I thought we could be friends. John got her to talk to me because I was nervous, and we were hitting it off just fine. That's when I forgot about the pencils and put them in my pocket. Because I was nervous. You know, dad, because a girl made me nervous."

Chuck smiled warmly at CJ and commented, "Yes, son, I know all about girls who can make a guy nervous. I married one."

"Anyway, dad, she thinks I'm a thief and I don't know how I'm going to convince her that I'm not without saying she made me nervous. What should I do?"

And now the look of pure trust in CJ's eyes undid Chuck once more. He had to look quickly to the floor and purse his lips together tightly to get control of himself again. It was amazing to Chuck how often the joys of parenthood could be just as painful – if not more painful – than the sorrows in their own way, and he had to wait a moment before the feeling of his heart swelling in his chest subsided.

"When the time is right, CJ, you'll know what to say. And if she's meant to be your friend, she'll hear you," Chuck advised, reaching out to smooth CJ's bangs back from his forehead. "And I'll go to the school with you tomorrow morning and drop in on Director Jarvis to make sure he's been informed of what really happened. No sense letting any rumors that may have started get out of hand, right?"

"Thanks, dad, that helps a lot," CJ said, finishing with a wide yawn.

His eyes slowly closing as he relaxed into sleep, CJ managed to add in a quiet whisper, "I love you, dad."

* * *

"So what did our other son have to say for himself?" Sarah asked as she changed into a pretty negligee for the night.

"John?" Chuck inquired. "Pretty much what you'd expect, I guess. He found out which girl it was who is interested in CJ, and her friends said they had seen him looking at her, so he told the girl that it would be a good time to go over and talk to him."

"And what about the other part?" Sarah asked, beginning to brush out her hair.

"Well, he said he didn't realize that there was such a thing as a lie of omission. I'm pretty sure he was telling the truth. John may be a handful but he's never been a liar."

"I would say you're right on that one," Sarah contributed.

It was a bit hard for Chuck to carry on a serious conversation with his wife as she pulled the brush through her shortened hair. Because she still wasn't quite used to the new length, she kept jerking the brush past the ends and whacking herself on the shoulder with it. Chuck, who was now in his pajamas, went over to her and held out his hand for the brush, taking over the task.

"And when I explained to him how that kind of an omission could endanger us all, I think he understood and took it seriously. I mean, this time it wasn't anything major but if it had been information we needed to know to protect him and CJ and Lisa –"

Sarah turned around and took the brush from Chuck's hand so she could run it through his hair, and he closed his eyes and almost purred at the sensation. When he opened his eyes again, Sarah was smiling at him proudly.

"You're such a good dad and apparently an imposing authority figure," she said, kissing him on the cheek.

"You know, Sarah, I think the credit for that goes to you. That look you get – you know that look you gave him at dinner? – well, I think it scared John so much that he was willing to listen to anything just so he wouldn't have to see it again."


	22. CJ's New Girlfriend

CJ walked into his and John's bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still wet from a morning shower. He had awakened in the middle of the night and stared at the ceiling that he couldn't see in the dark as he turned problems over in his mind that he couldn't figure out any solutions for until he finally wore himself out again and fell into a fitful doze.

"Boy, were you ever having a bad dream last night," commented John as he laced up his school shoes. "I thought you were going to fall out of bed once, you were tossing around so much."

"That must be why I'm still so tired, then," CJ observed. He yawned widely as he toweled his hair dry and then looked around the room dully for his clothes.

John, with uncharacteristic insight, pulled open the closet door and brought a shirt and pants over, laying them on CJ's bed before finding clean socks and underwear in his brother's dresser to add to the pile.

"Ten bucks says you fall asleep in Incendiary Chemistry class," dared John, clapping the exhausted CJ on the back before leaving his older brother to get dressed and ready for school.

* * *

As Chuck pulled the family car around to the back of the school, CJ looked out the window from the front passenger seat. Several heads turned their way to watch the car's progress and CJ was more than a little relieved that his father's visit to Director Jarvis meant that they would enter the building by the staff entrance at the back. He didn't think he could take the stress of going in through the front door where parents were dropping kids off and two school buses had already unloaded their charges.

Once they were in the director's office and Chuck had explained the situation, a little of the pressure was lifted, at least as far as CJ's reputation with the director was concerned.

"Thanks for coming in, Agent Bartowski," Director Jarvis said, addressing Chuck. "Frankly, I was a little surprised to hear the buzz was about one of your sons. I'm glad to find out it was all a misunderstanding."

Chuck, shaking the man's hand, replied, "Well, Director, my only concern now is that any rumors be put to rest as soon as possible. CJ's had it pretty rough for the past several hours thinking about what something like this could mean for his future. I know I can count on you to handle it in the school."

"You have nothing to worry about now, CJ," advised the director. "Just go to your first class and ignore anything negative you might hear for the next little while. It's going to take a bit of time to clear the air. I'll just ask you to be patient until then. Can you do that for me?"

CJ looked up from the floor where he had fixed his eyes and responded with an unenthusiastic, "Yes, sir."

* * *

By the time he got to his first class, the director had contacted CJ's homeroom teacher and explained the situation, so the first order of business involved an announcement. Without going into much detail, Ms. Fuhrmann outlined for the class that CJ had not stolen anything and was above reproach. She added that all rumors should cease immediately and turned to the blackboard to begin writing the day's Encrypted Cartography assignment, confident that her directives would be followed to the letter.

CJ, head bowed and eyes on the surface of his desk, was still uneasy, however. He could hear some notes being passed back and forth behind him along with some furtive whispering. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Gaby was looking at him. She still seemed upset, the way she was glaring, and CJ quickly returned his eyes to the front of the room and began writing what Ms. Fuhrmann was putting up on the board in his notebook. He had turned back too quickly to see Gaby's unforgiving expression change to one of uncertainty and then guilt.

* * *

"Well, you're in for it now, bro," John commented casually as the twins changed for their Hand-To-Hand Combat class.

"What do you mean?" CJ asked while pulling on the pants of his martial arts uniform.

"You can't avoid Gaby anymore. In fact, you might even get her for a partner today."

CJ whipped his head around and fixed his brother with a death ray stare, his eyes narrowed.

"Yep," John said, clapping CJ on the back, "I just get that feeling."

Smiling broadly, the blond boy turned and went through the door to the gym area, leaving CJ to stare after him helplessly.

* * *

As John had predicted – or, more likely, arranged – when the instructor called for everyone to pair up for sparring exercises, CJ's fellow students magically drifted into couples leaving CJ and Gaby standing in the middle of the floor looking lost. CJ glared at John again, who returned a studied _I didn't have anything to do with it_ look before turning to focus his attention on one of Gaby's girlfriends, who was his partner.

CJ took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. Nothing for it now but to go ahead. He approached Gaby and took up the ready position without speaking, and after she had thrown him to the mat and held him there, he was aware that she was whispering in his ear.

"I'm sorry, CJ," she said, not letting up the pressure on his upper arms. "I should have believed you."

CJ could feel the moisture spring to his eyes at this admission and he did his best to not start bawling with relief. Probably wouldn't be the manly thing to do.

As Gaby loosened her hold and extended a hand to help him up, she continued speaking in low tones.

"If you still want me to be your friend – your girlfriend, I mean," she corrected, "well, that would be nice."

CJ figured that at this point in a romantic movie the boy and girl would be holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes or something. Instead, he was being flipped back down to the mat by his new girlfriend and he couldn't have been happier about the situation. He grinned widely as Gaby helped him to his feet again.

"I'd like that," he said, readying himself for the next round. In spite of his best efforts to get the upper hand, CJ was tasting gym mat again as he was propelled face-down by his female adversary and pinned there when she placed a knee in the middle of his back and bent his arm up behind him, not enough to hurt him but enough to threaten to hurt him if he showed any signs of a struggle.

Whispering in his ear once more so it tickled in a delightfully thrilling fashion and made CJ's head spin a little bit, Gaby directed, "Just no kissing yet, okay?" and CJ, who was in no position to argue, replied docilely, "Yes, Gaby."


	23. Casey Fails a Test

Ilsa couldn't sit still. For about the tenth time, she jumped up from the waiting room chair as though it were covered in hot coals and went over to the clinic's bulletin board, scanning it to see if maybe she had missed reading something that was pinned up there since the last time she had looked about three minutes before. Repeating a routine she quickly established when they had arrived a half hour earlier, she then paced the width of the room, glancing around quickly at everything but seeing nothing. She was pacing back and forth right now in front of Casey, who was doing his best not to let it get to him. He knew he wouldn't be able to pretend much longer that he wasn't nervous as well.

Stopping and turning her head to look at him, Ilsa chewed on the edge of a thumbnail and gave Casey such an imploring and vulnerable look that his immediate reaction was to spring up from his chair and go to her, wrapping her in his arms as he mustered up a bit more false confidence and tried to radiate it through the strength in his arms and the heat from his body. After a moment, he could feel Ilsa relax a bit, and he loosened his embrace so he could look down into her face.

"It'll be all right, you'll see," he said. Lowering his head so he could whisper in her ear, he added, "We'll have a child, Ilsa, one way or another, but however it happens, I want you to know that I'm here for you. You don't even have to ask."

The smile that Casey loved so much suddenly appeared on his fiancée's face, lighting up her eyes. "You know, for a ruthless killer, you're one hell of a nice guy," she said, kissing him firmly.

When their lips parted again, Casey smiled into her lovely eyes and said, a serious tone to his voice, "I just want you to remember that the next time I leave the toilet seat up," and he pulled her tightly to him again, kissing her tenderly with a passionate warmth.

Casey almost didn't hear the NSA doctor clearing her throat, he was so intent on his kiss with Ilsa. When they finally realized there was someone else in the room, they pulled apart, their arms still around one another, and looked in the direction of the short, trim woman wearing a white lab coat and standing in the doorway on the far side of the waiting area.

Her voice full of humor and compassion, the doctor said, "Sorry to interrupt, Agents. Just as a bit of preliminary advice, keep that sort of thing up and you'll go a long way towards making your baby. Follow me, please."

The doctor turned smartly on her heel, leaving Casey and Ilsa to collect themselves and make their way to the consulting room behind her where they sat down in two chairs that were facing the doctor's desk. The woman was already seated with an open file and some booklets laid out in front of her, her elbows on the desk and fingers interlaced. She had a warm smile on her face as though she only had good news to tell them, and Ilsa visibly brightened and reached over to grasp Casey's hand between the two chairs.

"Well, I've gotten the lab results back and, Ilsa, your blood work and hormone levels combined with the outcome of your physical exams show no reason why you shouldn't be able to become pregnant the old-fashioned way."

Ilsa turned her head and beamed at Casey, squeezing his hand tightly. When she noticed that he only smiled back at her half-heartedly, however, her smile dropped away and she swung her head back around to the doctor with a frown.

"What about Casey?" she asked in a low voice.

"Major, unfortunately, your samples came back with a sperm count that was lower than I'd like to see along with decreased motility. This isn't unusual in a man of your age and I think it should be our starting point. There's no sense looking for other problems until we've ruled this one out."

Casey sat very still as he absorbed the highlights of what the doctor had just said. He distilled it down to "low sperm count," "decreased motility" and "a man of your age" and ran that through his head a few times. Ilsa and the doctor, both sensitive to what news like that might mean to such an active and virile man, sat quietly and watched his face as he adjusted to the unsettling information.

Casey cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair as he said, "So what's the next step, Doctor?"

Ilsa squeezed his hand again and smiled warmly, extremely proud of her man at that moment.

The doctor stood and came around to their side of the desk, picking up the pile of booklets on her way and inviting them to join her in a living room sort of arrangement on the other side of the office. When they were sitting down on the couch and chairs, she spread the selection of booklets out on the coffee table in front of the agents and pointed out some highlights that she wanted to draw their attention to.

"One area that might help is diet and exercise," she began. "Now, I know you're already healthier than most men, Major, but I think more water, more fresh fruits and vegetables, cut back or eliminate things like processed foods and sugars, well, that certainly would help out any health condition."

Ilsa and Casey nodded in agreement.

"And the usual things like don't wear tight pants, be aware of high temperatures in your groin area. All those things are outlined in the booklets."

Again the pair nodded in unison.

"And these booklets here describe some things you can do to increase the chance of the major's swimmers making it to their goal even if the counts and motility don't improve significantly as a result of the other steps."

Casey picked up one of the booklets the doctor had indicated and idly flipped through, stopping on one page for a moment to inspect it carefully. A particularly lustful grin flashed across his face before he once again schooled his features and responded with an obedient, "Yes, Doctor," before putting the booklet down again.

"Now," the doctor said in summary, "if you can just relax, not worry so much and try some of the things in these books, whatever you think you would be comfortable doing, I'm hoping that will do the trick. If not, we'll come back and work out a new plan, okay?"

Ilsa thanked the doctor and smiled gratefully as she and Casey stood and took turns shaking the woman's hand. When they had collected up their booklets and were on their way towards the exit to go to their car, Casey hurried Ilsa along with a hand at her elbow. And when he urged her to a quick trot, Ilsa, slightly confused, asked, "Casey, why are you in such a hurry? Those results didn't embarrass you too much, did they?"

"Hell, no," Casey replied, urging his lady love to an even greater speed. "I want to get home and try page 42."


	24. Emergency Preparedness

CJ ran to the door when he heard the knock and pulled it open. He smiled when he saw Gaby standing there with two adults waiting behind her. As he invited them inside, Chuck and Sarah came into the foyer from the living room.

"Hello, Gilles, glad you could come over at such short notice," Chuck called out heartily to the male half of the couple.

"Not at all, Chuck. We were very glad to receive an invitation to your home. Mariette was saying how it's a shame we haven't met socially before now in any case."

The woman referred to as Mariette entered the house and, as she was introduced, shook hands in turn with Chuck and Sarah and then with Lisa and John, who had been waiting behind their parents. When she got to CJ, she took both his hands then paused for a moment to have a good look at him.

In a gentle and quiet voice, she said warmly, "So this is the boy that is a friend to my little girl. I am so pleased to meet you, CJ."

Since CJ was the same height as the petite woman, she didn't have to stoop at all before kissing him on one cheek, then the other. A furious blush raced up into his face as he stood there speechless with his mouth hanging open.

"I hope you don't mind, _mon petit_. It is simply our way," Mariette added when she saw his confusion.

As she let go of his hands, CJ collected himself to say, "No, not at all, ma'am, and thank you for coming," before leading the group into the living room.

When they had all settled onto various couches and chairs and Chuck had distributed cocktails for the adults and juices for the children, Sarah turned to Mariette and observed, "You have such a lovely accent. If you have some time, I'd like to learn it, if I may."

"That would be a pleasure, my dear," the woman replied. "And I understand you speak Polish. We could do an exchange."

"I've had an idea!" Sarah exclaimed enthusiastically. "Why don't we start a little group. Just get together every once in a while for coffee and gossip and accent exchange! I'm sure our neighbor Ilsa would be interested and I'd love for you to meet her."

As these types of gatherings generally did, the room split into two halves with the females engaging in a spirited conversation on one side while the males gravitated to the other end of the room.

Gilles had just pulled off his tailored sport jacket and turned it inside out so he could show Chuck and the twins how the lining had been modified to create pockets that were completely invisible to the untrained eye. He was opening one up to display the packet of lock-picking tools and various other small implements that he had stored inside it when the alarm sounded.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!_

Everyone was instantly on the alert. Although it sounded like a regular fire detector alarm, it was actually a half a tone lower, which, in the spy part of this otherwise tranquil suburban community, meant the possibility of something much more dangerous than mere fire: infiltration by enemy agents.

CJ rushed over to the other side of the room, his first instinct to protect Gaby and, grasping her hand, led her, followed by Lisa and then John, into the hallway that bisected the house. He could hear the blast shields lowering to cover the windows, shields that didn't show through to the outside world, and he knew the same thing was happening at various houses in the area. Nobody looking from the street would know that the houses were shutting themselves down and the occupants preparing for a siege.

Sarah cast a worried glance at Chuck as she watched her children hurry from the room. He gave her a reassuring look in return and motioned to their guests and Sarah to follow him to a corner of the dining room nearest the entrance to the kitchen where he tripped a hidden catch that activated a sliding panel. Once the panel had begun to retract, Chuck started distributing bullet-proof vests, guns, knives and rounds and the four checked their armaments and loaded up.

Meanwhile, in the hallway, CJ had tripped a switch that opened the concealed hatchway there and was helping Lisa and Gaby over the sill and down the stairs. John let out a shrill whistle and, a moment later, a small, hairy blur whizzed past him to shoot down the hole. Flash could certainly live up to his name in an emergency.

As they had rehearsed many times before, CJ waited until John had gone down the hole before glancing around himself and then following, making sure to flip the switch on the inside that caused the wall to silently glide back into place, its three-inch-thick steel undetectable from the other side.

By the light of the dim emergency lamps, CJ carefully stepped down the stairs until he was in the entrance to the secure portion of the bunker. He paused for a moment again, calling out in a low voice, "Everybody in?" and entered when he heard three affirmative responses. He turned and swung the thick metal door shut, flinching a bit at the low _thump_ it made as it sealed the opening and the lock clicked into place.

John, Lisa and Gaby awaited him inside, sitting on benches along the two sides of the room. John was on one side, his arms around his little sister, and Gaby was sitting by herself on the other side looking composed but worried.

"I wonder if it's real or a drill," she said as CJ sat close beside her. Without thinking, he put his arms around the girl as well and pulled her close. He was surprised when he could feel some of the tension leave her body at his touch.

"We'll just have to wait and see," he replied. He tried to keep his voice calm and reassuring but was pretty sure the effect was ruined when it squeaked up at the end and he had to clear his throat before looking down into Gaby's eyes. Either she hadn't noticed or she didn't care, however, since she was giving him that look again, the one she had given him in the art supply store. It was the one that said she admired and trusted him, and CJ shifted his position a bit to straighten his spine as he smiled warmly back at her.

The four children sat like this, just listening and not saying anything, for about a half an hour. Flash had decided that he would continue his interrupted nap and was curled up on a dog bed tucked away on a shelf about two feet off of the floor.

CJ, remembering the protocol for the leader of a bunker group in an emergency, distributed wind-up flashlights and carefully cranked the handle on his to charge it but left it turned off. He then pulled out bottles of water from a locker for each of them and four protein bars in case anybody was hungry.

As if John were reading CJ's mind at that moment, he commented, "Boy, is mom going to be mad. She worked on dinner the whole day to impress your parents, Gaby."

Gaby smiled and chuckled a bit. "I don't think my parents are too worried about dinner at the moment, John." The import of what she had just said caused Gaby to bite her lower lip and look up at CJ, who was once again sitting with his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The girl's forlorn expression sought reassurance that the boy holding her wasn't sure he could provide.

Just as CJ had thought of something to say and was about to reply, there was a grating sound at the door opposite the one they had entered through. A gruff voice inquired through a communication link, "Are you kids okay in there? Time to come out."

Amid choruses of "Uncle Johnny!" from three of the children, CJ went to the door and pressed the button on the comm unit. Once the correct password phrases had been exchanged, he unlocked the door and stepped back to allow it to swing open, relieved to see Casey and Ilsa on the other side with smiles on their faces.

"It was a drill, kids, and you all did a great job," Casey announced. He watched with an amused expression as Flash stretched, yawned and jumped down from his perch on the shelf, then calmly trotted by the agents' feet to go out through the access tunnel leading to Casey and Ilsa's house.

As CJ stood back and gestured for Gaby to go ahead of him, she stopped for a moment and kissed him on the cheek before whispering, "Even if it was just a drill, you were very brave," and CJ savored the tingling on his cheek and the warmth in his chest before following her out of the bunker and closing the door.

* * *

_mon petit_ – my child


	25. Wedding Plans

Ilsa felt really at home here in Sarah and Chuck's kitchen, probably more than she had ever felt at home anywhere, including the small factory village where she had grown up. Most people would probably be surprised if they found out it had been a village in the Midwest United States and not the middle of the Russian steppes somewhere. But it was an agent's prerogative to keep secrets, even from his or her loved ones. Ilsa, in her heart, naturally included Sarah and Chuck and their three children in that very small group of people whom she now considered her loved ones. Even their dog Flash had managed to find a small dog-shaped place there as well.

Sarah was bustling around the kitchen putting away the last of the cleaned dishes from their supper. When Ilsa closed her eyes a bit, she could imagine her mother, a flowered apron snug across her perpetually expanded waistline, moving around the family kitchen and issuing orders to Ilsa's many siblings and whichever other children had managed to wander in and through the house. It didn't seem to matter to the woman whose children were whose, they were all eligible for her seemingly limitless love and stern but fair discipline.

After that, Ilsa couldn't help but see a picture in her mind with herself at the center of the kitchen in Casey's house, their kitchen now, a warm glow on her face as a couple of small children that looked a lot like Casey ran through the room, Lisa and CJ and John and probably also Gaby running after them in some kind of game while Ilsa called out, "If you fall and hurt yourselves, it's not my fault!" just the way Ilsa's mother used to do. Casey would come up behind her as the setting sun slanted through the window and warmed her skin, his arms snaking around her thickened midsection as he caressed his unborn child inside her and whispered in her ear –

"There, that's done!" Sarah declared as she sat opposite her friend and leaned her forearms on the table, breaking the woman's reverie. "Now, what is it you wanted to ask me, Ilsa?"

"I'm planning the wedding, Sarah," Ilsa began, "Casey's and my wedding." Realizing this was probably unnecessary information, Ilsa flushed a bit and smiled in embarrassment.

"Go on, Ilsa," Sarah encouraged, reaching across the table to cover the woman's hand with one of hers.

"And I wonder if you would stand up for me, you know, be my matron of honor," she finished as she searched Sarah's eyes hopefully.

"Oh, Ilsa, of course I'll be there for you!" came Sarah's excited reply as she jumped up and ran around the table to embrace her friend. "Oh, I can't wait to tell Chuck!"

After Sarah had finished squeezing so tightly and Ilsa got her breath back, she stopped the agent from running into the living room, where Chuck and Casey had gone after dinner.

"Please leave them alone for a while longer," Ilsa said, a worried frown in her eyes. "Let them come in here to us."

Sarah paused a moment before understanding washed over her features. "Ah, I see. Well, in that case, let's have a cup of tea and some of those lovely pastries you brought with you. And then we can talk about dresses."

* * *

Chuck was standing in front of the stereo flipping through the display of music and trying to find something nice to play during dessert and coffee. Sarah had said she wanted to clean up before she served it but she and Ilsa sure were taking their time in the kitchen. Chuck figured that, with the kids eating over at the Charbonneaus' – Gaby's house – Sarah was enjoying a good gab with Ilsa without having to deal with the dessert demands of two boys and a girl.

After Chuck had keyed his playlist into the control panel, however, he was beginning to wonder if Sarah was finding it easier to ignore husbands and fiancés as well. He had gotten a look at the exotic European pastries that Ilsa and Casey had brought with them and was eager to give them a try. In the interests of cultural exchange, of course.

Besides, Casey was acting like, well, Casey. He was sitting perched on the edge of the big easy chair, his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced together, an uncertain scowl on his face. Chuck had known the NSA agent long enough now to recognize that look. It was meant to cover up some insecurity the big man was feeling and frighten off anyone who tried to ask him what the problem was.

And the problem was, Chuck knew, that it had never scared him off and never would. It hadn't scared him years ago because Chuck was a generous soul and a little bit cavalier when it came to his personal safety when a friend was in need, and it didn't scare him now because he knew Casey as well as any man knew a brother. Chuck was willing to wait a few minutes until the agent worked up the courage to reveal whatever it was that was bothering him.

As Chuck sat down in the chair opposite, Casey cleared his throat and began.

"The wedding," he said in a low voice, looking at his hands.

Chuck decided that the best thing to do was just wait some more and listen. Luckily, he didn't have to wait very long.

"Chuck, I want you to be my best man," Casey finally continued, looking up into his friend's eyes.

Chuck remained seated. Even though he was quite excited, he did his best to appear cool as he replied, "Why, of course I'll be your best man, Casey. Thanks for asking."

Casey let out a whoosh of air in relief and smiled as if to say _I'm__glad__that's__over__and__done__with_ and sat back in his chair, releasing all the tension he had been holding in his shoulders.

Chuck smiled to himself. Other than with Ilsa, that was probably the most demonstrative Casey had ever been with anyone. It would be a mistake now to refer to it again so soon, so Chuck selected the next best option.

He began to chat about some new ordnance that he had seen at Los Angeles Headquarters and soon the two men were debating the pros and cons of automatic and semi-automatic weapons in various espionage situations. When Chuck could see that Casey was back to his old gruff, snarky and argumentative self, he stood up.

"Coffee and dessert?" he asked as he turned to go into the kitchen. When Casey nodded in the affirmative, Chuck added wryly, "That is, if our women haven't already eaten all of those pastries."


	26. The Collaboration

Chuck was moping around the kitchen again. This was the umpteenth time in the last month and Sarah hated seeing him like this, distracted and unhappy. She came up behind him as he was looking through the fridge for about the tenth time that evening, still finding nothing, and grasped his arm. She closed the fridge door and led him into the living room where she sat him down on the couch and lowered herself onto his lap.

"Tell me all about it, sweetie," she said as she wound her arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Chuck slumped backwards, letting his shoulders fall. He sighed heavily and pouted at the floor a bit before turning his face towards Sarah's and kissing her lightly on the lips.

"It's not working. I've tried and tried and it's just not coming out right," he whined. "Maybe it's never going to work. I should just give up, I guess."

He pouted some more and then checked to see if this was going to get the right kind of sympathy from his wife. It did.

"Oh, poor baby," Sarah crooned in his ear, making the hair on his neck stand on end as she breathed the words out softly. She stroked the back of his head, twining her fingers in his curls while arching her lower spine forwards and laying his head on her chest. Triple play!

"Seriously, though, Chuck," Sarah continued while comforting her husband, "why don't you give Morgan a call. Maybe he can help you out with this. He does own several computer gaming stores, after all."

Chuck knew he should be concentrating on what Sarah was saying to him. She was using that reasonable and logical tone of voice. But it was pretty difficult. She was warm. And soft. And smelled so nice. And her heartbeat was firm. And the spot where she was sitting was hot. And getting hotter. And – and –

Chuck pulled his attention back to the conversation with an effort. Raising his head, he replied, "Yes, you're right, I should call him. I probably should have called before now. It's just that with Anna and everything that's going on, I guess I've been putting it off."

"Well, now you've got a good reason to go and see him," Sarah stated, "and maybe you can help him out while you're at it."

Sarah put a palm to each side of Chuck's face and positioned his head so he was looking squarely into her eyes.

"And now maybe you can help me out with a little problem I'm having," Sarah purred as her mouth quirked up on one side before covering Chuck's in an unashamedly lustful kiss.

* * *

Chuck was a bit surprised that he actually felt nervous as he got out of his car. Maybe it was because the Morgan's Mindgames store he was meeting Morgan at was a location in a large mall that reminded Chuck a bit too much of the Buy More plaza. It certainly couldn't be that he was going to see his old friend again. Chuck finally decided it was because he wasn't sure how Morgan would react to his idea, and he squared his shoulders and gripped his attaché case a little more firmly before pushing the door open and going in.

"Chuck! Buddy! Great to see you again!"

Morgan's voice boomed through the store over video game sound effects and the shouts of patrons trying them out.

When they met in the middle of the store, they exchanged a warm bear hug, both laughing with the pleasure of seeing each other again.

After the two men had released each other, Chuck swiveled around to look at the store.

"This is new," he observed, indicating the bank of units where the games were being played.

"Yeah, it was an idea I had about a month ago. This is just a pilot program, but it's been successful so far so I'm going to put it in at all the locations. I got the idea from _Tron_, you know, like the old video arcades. The kids buy a magnetic debit card that they have to swipe to play for a certain time period. They get to try the games first before buying them. Anna's dad said that they wouldn't buy the games if they could play them first, but I was right and sales have increased dramatically since these units were installed. _And_," Morgan added with pride in his voice, "we get the extra income from the arcade portion as well."

"I always knew you were a genius, Morgan," Chuck said, sincere in his praise for his friend. "Just a different kind of genius. And that's why I wanted to see you, old buddy."

"Well, come into my office, sir, and we'll discuss it. Have you had lunch yet? I'll call for a pizza," Morgan said as he wheeled Chuck around and directed him towards the back of the store.

* * *

Chuck patted his stomach and brushed the pizza crumbs from the side of his mouth.

"Morgan, Sarah is going to wonder why I'm not eating supper tonight, but that was terrific. The goat-cheese-and-fig combination was inspired!"

"Yeah, well, now that we're loaded up, what's this problem I can help you with, Chuck?"

Chuck reached down into his bag and pulled out a couple of memory devices, putting them on the table in front of Morgan with a flourish.

"I've been writing a game," he said, "but I'm stuck. I need your input, Morgan. We can go partners on it too."

Morgan placed a hand over his heart and looked humble.

"I'm flattered, Chuck. Let's have a look at it."

He picked up one of the units and attached it to a nearby gaming console, fired it up, and began to play the game. Chuck moved his chair around to sit behind his friend and they discussed the different features of the game as Morgan played by himself, and then Chuck joined in on the other controller so they could experience the two-player version.

When they had played for about an hour and a half, the men put the game controllers down and sat without moving. Morgan, his eyes darting around a bit while his brain worked through the problem, finally snapped his fingers, crying out, "I've got it!"

Chuck leaned forwards in his chair in anticipation.

"What, Morgan?" he inquired.

"The main character, the guy?" Morgan began.

"Mm-hmm?" murmured Chuck, completely captivated by his friend's obvious excitement.

"It should be a girl!" Morgan exclaimed.

He grasped Chuck's shoulders as a look of pure glee mixed with the most tender love washed over his face as his eyes unfocused a bit.

"And I know just who the character should be modeled after," he added wistfully.


	27. The Launch

Morgan had outdone himself. He had set up a platform stage at one end of his flagship store and mounted several large hi-def monitors around the space so each person in attendance could see without effort. A kick-ass sound system finished off the setup to perfection.

Chuck looked around happily, noting all the details. He knew that his friend had supervised each one and marveled at the change in Morgan since the old Buy More days. And it had sure paid off, at least financially. Chuck hoped that Morgan's plan would come up trumps in the romantic department as well.

Coming up behind Chuck, Morgan cleared his throat nervously.

"Is she here yet?" he asked, his eyes darting to the front door, then back around the room.

"Not yet, buddy, but she will be, I'm sure of it," Chuck said in as reassuring a tone as he could muster. "How could she miss the launch of your first computer game?"

"Well, it's hardly the most romantic way to win a wife back," Morgan said, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"Ah, but Anna never was a run-of-the-mill wife, right? Not flowers and candy and serenades but mosh pits and tattoo parlors and alligator farms, am I right?"

Chuck grinned down at his friend and waited expectantly. Morgan, grinning sheepishly, admitted, "Yes, you're right. You're always right, Chuck. And I've always loved her for it."

Suddenly the skin not covered by Morgan's stylishly trimmed beard paled as he returned his gaze to the door.

"There she is. Chuck, you go and bring her to the front. I'll get things underway."

As Morgan turned and sprinted towards the back of the store, Chuck advanced to the entrance where Sarah had just finished introducing Gaby to Anna.

"Anna!" Chuck exclaimed, pulling the shorter woman into a warm embrace. "Morgan is so glad you came!"

Anna, her voice full of affection, replied, "Hello, Chuckles. It's great to see you again." But when the two old friends released each other, her face clouded and her voice took on a razor-sharp edge as she snarled, "If Morgan's so happy to see me, then why isn't he here to greet me? He probably thought of six more ways to make money in the past five minutes."

Chuck was rendered a bit speechless at this outburst but held back any reaction when Anna's face resumed a sunny smile and she said airily, "Oh, well, let's get this over with and then maybe we can all go out for a late lunch, okay?"

As she turned to walk towards the stage, Chuck shot a look at Sarah and jerked his head a bit to one side. Sarah immediately broke into a jog to catch Anna up and accompanied her the rest of the way to the staging area.

Now that all his special guests were in the store, Morgan, who was standing in a small area behind the platform, raised a hand in the air and signaled to a staff member at the door to open up for the public. Chuck moved to one side as a wave of people, young and old, surged into the Morgan's Mindgames. The advance publicity had obviously done its job, and the store was soon packed with a very eager audience impatiently awaiting the launch.

When the crowd had found places on the tightly packed floor, Morgan mounted the stage and approached the microphone set up there. Two assistants came along with him, each carrying some kind of cardboard figure draped in a concealing cloth and placed one on either side of their boss at the front of the stage. Morgan checked that the mic was on and began to speak.

"First of all," he commenced, "thank you all for coming out. If you're half as excited by this new game as I am, well, let's just say you'll be _very_ excited."

He looked directly at Anna, the twinkle of joy in his eyes apparent to everyone in the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you _Anna Love!_"

As Morgan raised an arm in the air and the driving metal music that was the game's theme song began to play, the two assistants whipped the cloths from the cardboard cutouts revealing the main character of Chuck and Morgan's new video game. It was, of course, Anna, but if it was even possible, a fantasy version of the real Anna, wearing a skimpy but flattering outfit as she stood in a threatening martial arts posture with a look on her face that promised either a sound beating or a thorough loving. It was hard to tell at any moment which one.

Suddenly, the actual game appeared on all the monitors and began playing. Morgan had recruited one of the better gamers on his staff and given her a beta copy of the game a couple of weeks earlier. The result was spectacular. The main character, Anna Love, moved like a cat through several levels delivering well-timed kicks and punches, picking up power and weapons and rapidly conquering level after level.

After about five minutes, which was enough time to whet any gamer's appetite before he or she would want to try for themselves, Morgan announced that, today only, each person was entitled to ten minutes' free play on the new game as his staff busily moved among the crowd distributing debit cards and shepherding the lineups at the various game stations.

Morgan hopped down from the stage to stand in front of Anna. The reception he got was beyond his wildest dreams as she squealed with glee and launched herself at him.

"Oh, Morgan, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me!" she exclaimed, kissing him soundly and doing a pretty good imitation of her alter ego Anna Love.

Chuck approached the happy couple and stood by Sarah, putting his arm around her. When they finally stopped kissing, Anna looked at Morgan a bit sadly.

"Morgan," she said, "I grew up in a family that is obsessed with money and prestige and material things. I really want to come back to you, but I don't want the money, I don't want the stores, I don't even want the video game. I want you. Do you understand? I've always only wanted you."

"I think I understand, Anna Banana, but I can't give this up entirely. Remember, I didn't grow up with the money and all those other things," Morgan replied as he placed his forehead against his wife's and looked into her eyes.

"Well, I guess we'll have to work out a compromise, then," Anna said, a bright smile lighting up her face. "Let's start tonight. I know you have more to do here and won't be able to get away just yet, but when you get home, I'll be there waiting. Make sure you're not too tired, my little pork dumpling."

Anna kissed Morgan once more lightly before releasing him and turning towards one of the game stations. "Now, let me try my game out for a bit and we'll see how tough I am," she said as other players made way for her when they recognized who she was.

Morgan stood for a moment, beaming first in Anna's direction and then at Chuck and Sarah. Chuck was very glad to see his friend happy again. He was also very proud of the small part he had played in Morgan and Anna's reconciliation.

"Well, buddy," Morgan said, rubbing his hands together, "looks like we've got a hit on our hands."

Sarah, still holding Chuck around his waist, looked towards the bearded man and commented, "Well, Morgan, you know what they say. Love will always find a way."


	28. Wedding Party

Lisa reached up to adjust CJ's bow tie when she saw that he had knocked it on an angle again.

"I don't know why you're so nervous," she said. "It's not like you're getting married."

John doubled over with laughter and snorted out, "Yeah, I can just see you and Gaby walking down the aisle. She'd be leading you by the nose!"

Lisa turned to her blond brother and put her hands on her hips. Using her bossy and indignant tone of voice, she said, "John, you just leave CJ alone. Gaby's a nice girl and we should be glad that at least one of you is mature enough to be able to get a girlfriend as sweet as she is. I don't exactly see them lining up for you."

John, suitably chastened, stopped laughing. His woebegone expression caused CJ to smirk knowingly, but he recovered quickly when he caught sight of himself in a nearby full-length mirror.

"Well, with this suit on, that shouldn't be a problem much longer. Who did you say was going to be here today, Lisa?"

Lisa turned from CJ to give John a final critical once-over.

"Nobody you need to worry about right now," she said as she tugged on the bottom of his jacket to straighten it. "Don't forget not to fall on your face to start with and then we'll see about breaking hearts later on."

John gently put both hands on his little sister's shoulders to still her fussing and looked into her upturned face.

"You look really nice today, sis. And I mean that," he said before kissing her lightly on the forehead.

"Yeah, Lisa, you look pretty. It won't be long before the guys will be lining up for you, you know," CJ declared before giving Lisa an identical kiss.

Lisa, rendered speechless for just a moment, finally recovered and said, "I've only just turned seven. I think it will be a while yet. Now let's go to the starting place like we did in rehearsal last night."

"And remember," John said over his shoulder as he and his brother were herded out of the ready room by their little sister, "we'll be there to kick any guy's butt if he gives you trouble."

"Not if I kick it for him first," Lisa said, an evil smile on her face that said to John in no uncertain terms that she would probably be able to take care of herself, thank you very much.

* * *

Chuck had a permanent quirk stuck to the right side of his mouth. It had started earlier that morning when he had dressed in his best suit and left Sarah in their hotel room to take up his duties as best man. First order of business: Go and check on the groom.

When he knocked on the door and called out, "Casey, are you up?" he was sure he could hear something fragile falling to the floor and smashing accompanied by what sounded like a large and very angry bear growling. Except this particular bear also had a quite distinctive and colorful vocabulary to go along with his snarls.

The smile began the moment Casey's door was flung open by the bear himself and Chuck was treated to his first sight in their roughly fifteen years' association of the usually unflappable NSA agent in full panic mode.

Casey reached out and unceremoniously dragged Chuck into the room by his upper arm.

"Thank goodness you're here!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide and wild as he stood in the middle of the room wearing only his boxer shorts and an undershirt. "I can't find anything!"

"Calm down, buddy, calm down," Chuck soothed, turning the big man around and guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Now, what is it you can't find, exactly?"

Within a few minutes, Chuck located Casey's socks, shoes, cufflinks, belt, bow tie, and laid his suit and shirt out on top of the bed. Casey, having had a chance to calm down a bit, smiled up gratefully at his friend and heaved a big sigh.

"It doesn't seem real somehow, you know?" Casey had spoken so quietly, Chuck needed to strain a bit to hear the man as he continued. "I'm afraid I'm going to wake up and she'll be gone again."

Chuck patted Casey's shoulder, trying to reassure him. It was touching that Casey was confiding in him so openly, and Chuck knew better than to take advantage of his friend's vulnerability by making a joke about it.

"If you can find a way to let Ilsa know that every day, I guarantee you, she'll never want to be anywhere else but with you for the rest of your lives," Chuck stated firmly.

"And, take it from me, John," he added, "this is real. In fact, it's so real that if you don't hurry up and get dressed, you're going to miss your own wedding." Chuck picked up Casey's socks and handed them to him. "Here," he continued, his voice full of warm affection for his old friend, "you might want to start with these."

* * *

Sarah lifted the circlet of diamonds and backward-facing veil and placed it on Ilsa's head, securing it in place with two small clips.

"There, all done, and you look gorgeous," the CIA agent said, stepping back to admire her friend's reflection in the mirror.

Ilsa turned in her chair, a worried frown on her face.

"I hope everything goes well today. It's kind of like an omen, don't you think?" she said. "If the wedding goes badly then the marriage goes badly."

Sarah's face lit up with devilish amusement as she pulled a chair over next to Ilsa's. Sitting down, she took the bride's hands in hers and said, "Not true. Look at me and Chuck."

"That's what I'm saying," Ilsa interjected, "your wedding must have been perfect! You're both so happy together, you've got a lovely family, a nice home. I'm guessing your wedding was like a dream!"

"More like a nightmare," Sarah said ruefully. "The rental place gave Chuck the wrong suit and by the time he tried it on it was too late to change it. The pants and the sleeves were an inch too short. The caterer didn't notice that the cooling unit on their truck wasn't working until most of the food was spoiled so we had to order in pizza. Our flowers were sent to a funeral and their flowers were sent to us, notices of condolence and all. Shall I go on?"

By this time, Ilsa was laughing so hard she was beginning to tear up and Sarah grabbed a tissue before any damage was done to the woman's eye makeup.

"Oh, stop, stop! But you'll have to tell me all about it later!" Ilsa exclaimed when she finally could speak again.

"So you see," Sarah explained, "you and Casey get to make your own luck. It has nothing to do with omens and superstitions. I know you'll be great together, and if there's anything that you need help with, Chuck and I will be there for you."

Ilsa embraced Sarah for a moment, whispering a heartfelt "Thank you," before they stood and turned to leave the room.

"Last check. Have you got everything?" Sarah asked, as though this were an important covert op and their equipment had to be just right.

Ilsa went down the checklist.

"Something old, the necklace Casey gave me in Grozny; something new, the diamond ear studs he gave me last night at the rehearsal dinner; something borrowed, cute little thigh holster and pistol from you – I'm pretty sure Casey's going to really like that one; something blue, the silk ribbon in my garter. I think we're all set. Let's go."

As the two women made their way down to the marshaling area outside the chapel, many heads turned in their direction and one group of tourists even burst into spontaneous applause when they got out of the elevator and walked across the lobby. By the time they joined CJ and John and Lisa, Ilsa was positively glowing.

And when the music inside the chapel started playing and the doors were opened, none of the pomp or beautiful clothes or all the people assembled seemed to matter any longer. Suddenly, for Ilsa and Casey, it was as though the only two people present as the procession began to make its way to the front were the lovely bride with the dark flashing eyes and the tall, handsome groom waiting for her with the most tender look of love on his face that either Chuck or Sarah had ever seen.


	29. Vows

It was actually fairly ordinary as weddings go. There was a young girl at the front of the procession carrying a basket of flowers followed by her twin brothers, each holding a satin pillow with a gold ring tied to it, one medium-sized and one large. Then the mother of the three children, who, as matron of honor, was trying unsuccessfully to downplay her beauty as she paced slowly up the central aisle of the chapel, followed by the bride. This bride walked alone with her head held high, eyes directed to the front of the chapel and fixed on those of the man waiting for her there.

He stood tall as the processional played, no sign of any earlier nervousness or hesitation present, flanked by his best man to his left and a Justice of the Peace to his right. He broke eye contact with his soon-to-be wife just once to momentarily spare a glance and a warm look for the elderly woman sitting in the front row who was crying quietly into a tissue as she smiled at the scene unfolding in front of her and clutched the hand of the woman next to her who bore an uncanny resemblance to the groom.

When the children took their places along the front and the bride had handed her bouquet off to the woman accompanying her, everyone in the little wedding party faced the front and the ceremony began.

The vows were short and to the point.

"John Arthur Casey, do you take this woman..."

"I do."

"Ilsa Faina Trinchina, do you take this man..."

"I do."

The young boy with blond curly hair approached the man and held up his pillow while the gold ring on it was untied, then moved back to stand again beside the flower girl. Taking the delicate ring in his left hand and his bride's left hand in his right, he looked into her eyes as he slipped the ring over her finger and said, "With this ring I thee wed..." Then the boy with the dark straight hair repeated the ritual, delivering the large ring to the bride, who took her man's hand and slid the ring in place while saying, "With this ring, I thee wed..."

The music started up again, a quiet interlude, as the two couples – the bride and groom and the best man and matron of honor – followed the Justice of the Peace to sign the registry. When they had entered a small room behind the altar area, the reason for their seclusion became apparent.

The Justice of the Peace produced a special registry book, one that the local municipal functionaries would never see. It had a dark blue leather cover with the seal of the NSA embossed on it. The form that was waiting for the signatures of the married couple and the witnesses came with special overlays. There were three, and each had cutouts at different locations for three of the signature lines on the document.

The Justice of the Peace motioned for the groom to come forward, leaving the other three members of the wedding party standing back so they couldn't see the registry, and said, "Congratulations, Major. Now if you would just sign your real name right there" – and he pointed to the spot where the signature was required – "then we can have your lovely wife up next."

Changing places, the same procedure was carried out by the bride, only this time, when she approached the registry book as her husband dropped back next to the best man and matron of honor, the first overlay had been put in place shielding the completed signature from view.

After the two witnesses had signed in the same manner, each unable to see the signatures of their predecessors, the Justice of the Peace affixed his signature to the bottom of the document as the officiator and closed the book. He then locked it securely in a drawer underneath the table it had been sitting on and pocketed the key.

Next, the usual public documents were produced, and each of the four signed once again, this time after being instructed to use their cover names. This was the document that would be filed at City Hall, and once it was completed, the Justice of the Peace double-checked to make sure all the paperwork was in order and, finally satisfied that it was, he put his pen down and smiled.

Turning to the four people waiting patiently for his next direction, he extended his hand to the groom, exclaiming, "Well, Major, I certainly would like to kiss the bride!"

The major looked for a moment like he hadn't quite decided whether to allow a kiss, but then, shaking the man's hand firmly, said, "Thank you, Brigadier General, and by all means..."

Kissing the bride lightly on the cheek, the man whispered briefly in her ear, which caused her to laugh and send a fond look towards her husband, who scowled a bit at his superior officer before schooling his features and taking his wife's hand again possessively.

The group of five then returned to the chapel proper, where the younger members of the wedding party were only fidgeting a bit and the people in the pews hadn't had time to become overly impatient with the temporary absence of the loving couple.

The Justice of the Peace then said a few more words, ending with "You may now kiss," and the room was filled with the happy sounds of the spectators' approval as the man and woman, now officially married, kissed tenderly, then turned to face the aisle, hands firmly clasped.

The sound of a rousing recessional swelled and filled the room, and the wedding party began to make their way out of the chapel as the guests rose to their feet and applauded enthusiastically.

Ilsa and Casey led the way, followed by Chuck and Sarah, then the three children, Lisa flanked by her brothers, who had offered their elbows to her from either side and beamed as they escorted their little sister down the aisle and towards the door leading to the hotel lobby.

As the happy group neared the door, Ilsa suddenly gasped and stumbled a bit. She was saved from falling by Casey, whose happy smile turned to a dark frown when he saw how startled and upset she was. He glanced in the direction her eyes were turned in time to see a tall, well-dressed older man wearing a heavy coat and hat that were much too warm for the California climate. The man was looking at Ilsa intently, his face a threatening mask as he glared in her direction for just a moment before slipping out the door ahead of everyone else.

By the time he had disappeared, Ilsa had recovered her composure and was ready to continue out the door. However, although her face had returned to its former smile of joy, Casey could feel that she was now clutching his arm in a death grip, and he placed a reassuring hand over hers as they completed their journey from the chapel and emerged, husband and wife.


	30. Reception

As Ilsa and Casey led the rest of their guests to the reception room, Ilsa relaxed her hold on Casey's arm only slightly and kept a lookout for the man in the heavy coat. When they entered the hotel's special events room, Casey leaned down and asked her, "Are you okay?" for which he was rewarded a kiss and a bright smile.

"I'll be fine," Ilsa responded, but Casey noticed that the smile didn't quite reach her troubled eyes.

He gestured to Chuck and Sarah, who had been close behind them on the way to the reception. The other people now crowding at the door must have assumed that the quiet conversation was about the wedding luncheon to come, and they waited respectfully outside the room.

"Chuck, did you see a man in a long dark coat and hat, Slavic-looking? He was hanging around the back of the chapel when we were coming out," Casey whispered, ignoring Ilsa's insistent tugs on his arm.

"No, but I can go and look for him now," Chuck replied, but as he turned to go back to the hotel lobby, Ilsa stopped him with a loud and sharp, "Wait!"

More heads than Chuck's, Sarah's and Casey's turned to look in her direction, and Ilsa quickly bit her lower lip and flushed.

"Casey, he's a handler, or at least he was. Former KGB."

"Well, then," Casey said, a note of determination in his voice, "let's find out what he's doing here now."

Just as Casey was about to break away from Ilsa's hold and leave to search for the man, Ellie pushed her way politely through the crowd and approached them, one hand on her distended belly and a frown on her face, and asked, "What's wrong, guys? Shouldn't you be starting the reception line now? I don't think it's a good idea to keep everyone standing like this."

Casey hesitated and glanced at the three other agents before relaxing his face into a smile and turning to Ellie.

"Of course, Ellie, you're right," he said. "You shouldn't be standing, at least, and I know my mother shouldn't. Let's do the reception line first and we'll take care of that other matter later, okay?"

As Ellie retreated, Sarah arranged the wedding party in order, first Casey and Ilsa, then herself, Chuck, Lisa, CJ and John, and they began the task of formally welcoming their guests to the reception. As a good agent always did, however, the four adults casually scanned the room and checked back out through the doorway for any signs of the threatening-looking man who had caused Ilsa so much distress.

They greeted Casey's family first. His mother, leaning heavily on a cane, reached up and placed a palm lightly on Ilsa's cheek.

"Bless you, child," she said, tears once more in her eyes. "I thought my Johnny-Boy was going to die alone."

As she leaned forwards to kiss Ilsa, Casey's face took on a pained expression, and he traded a glance with the woman who looked so much like him, his younger sister. The look they exchanged told Chuck and Sarah this was probably a favorite theme for the old woman. Sarah managed a serene smile but jabbed Chuck in the ribs when he snorted back a laugh before he could get control of himself.

* * *

John was the first one to start hitting the side of his water glass with a spoon. Soon the whole room had joined in, and as Casey shot Ilsa a wry look and wiped his mouth with his napkin, Chuck shifted in his chair so he could put his arm over Sarah's shoulder and hold her close.

Casey stood and drew Ilsa to her feet. He paused for dramatic effect, causing their guests to add a few shouts of encouragement to the already deafening sound of tinkling glassware, and when he pulled his wife into his arms and kissed her tenderly, a hush fell over the room for a moment.

CJ, sitting next to Gaby at a table with her parents, reached his hand out under cover of the tablecloth and was surprised and pleased when Gaby's hand met his halfway and slipped into his as if it belonged there, and when he turned his head to look at her shyly, she was already looking at him, her young, fresh face full of happiness.

* * *

When everyone had almost finished their dessert, Chuck stood to toast the newly married couple. Raising his glass, he began.

"Thank you all so much for being here today. Especially the big guy."

Mild laughter.

"When John Casey first came to work at the Buy More all those years ago, his vocabulary pretty much consisted of grunts and growls. I even worked out a classification system, well, because that's what nerds do, after all, and because it just made him growl even more."

Slightly more widespread laughter.

"Well, ever since Ilsa reappeared in his life, I've had to revise my system, because she's done the impossible, folks. She's domesticated him. His vocabulary hasn't improved that much, but instead of growls, you're more likely to hear purrs."

Lots of laughter and significant looks.

"And for that reason, I ask you to charge your glasses and stand for a toast to the happy couple."

The sound of glasses clinking could be heard ringing out among shouts of "To the happy couple!" as Casey and Ilsa sat during the accolade and held hands. In spite of the boisterous celebration they had eyes only for each other, and as Casey moved closer to give his new wife a kiss, he stopped short when her face suddenly paled and she gasped audibly.

"What is it?" he asked, turning his head to the direction she was looking.

"He's still here, Casey," she replied.

Ilsa stood and began to move towards the door and Casey stood to go with her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and slowing her down so he could get in front of her. When they reached the doorway, the man in the dark coat and hat was standing there. He had apparently decided to hold his ground this time, and when Casey rushed up to him, fists balled and at his most threatening, the mysterious stranger just stood a little straighter and appeared to brace himself for the attack.

From behind him, Casey heard Ilsa's strangled, "Casey, no!" and he paused for a moment, which gave her the opportunity to get between the two men, holding her furious husband back with insistent hands and pleading eyes.

"Just who are you?" the big agent bellowed. He had never seen Ilsa so upset by anyone and was more than a bit surprised that his need to protect her had called up such violent emotions. Casey's years of training tended towards cool-headedness and dispassionate calculation.

Ilsa, still holding Casey back with both hands on his chest, switched to Russian, saying, "Casey, my love, please. It's all right."

She then turned to the other man, who took his hat off and bowed slightly in Casey's direction before opening his arms to receive Ilsa. After they had kissed each other's cheeks with affection, Ilsa, still held by the man, turned back to Casey and said, still in Russian, "John Casey, I would like you to meet my father, Vasily Trinchina. Father, this is my husband."


	31. Regrets

As soon as Casey realized that Ilsa was no longer upset, that she was, in fact, quite happy and excited, he relaxed and extended his hand to his new father-in-law. Addressing the man in Russian, he said solemnly, "Welcome, sir. I am very pleased to meet you."

The man hesitated and looked at Ilsa, who smiled encouragingly, but when he took Casey's proffered hand, instead of just shaking it, he drew the much bigger man into an enthusiastic bear hug, kissing him on both cheeks as he laughed and exclaimed in accented English, "My son, my son!"

After he had released the groom from the hug and steadied him a bit with one hand, Trinchina raised his free arm into the air and shouted to Ilsa, "Vodka, daughter, we must have vodka!"

"_Da_, papa!" exclaimed Ilsa, and she took each man by a hand to lead them back towards the dining tables.

Sarah, who had been close enough to hear the conversation and its outcome, had already anticipated their request. Dragging Chuck with her to the bar, she ordered a couple of bottles of chilled vodka and asked that more be put into the freezer for the rest of the afternoon. She then quickly arranged several shot glasses on two trays while Chuck and the bartender filled them up, and the two agents were on their way back to the main tables as Casey, Ilsa and Trinchina arrived.

Sarah offered her tray around, but Chuck found he had to set his on the table rather quickly when he finally got a good view of Ilsa's father and his eyes began to roll back a bit into his head.

Ilsa, who was closest to him, reached out to offer support. Chuck clutched at her arm a bit for just a moment and Ilsa, thinking from the look on his face that he was going to throw up, turned her head towards Casey to enlist his help. Casey stepped smoothly into the breach, wheeling Chuck away as he announced, "Maybe just a bit too much champagne at lunch, folks. I'll look after him."

"Oh, I hope he's all right," Ilsa said, a worried frown creasing her brow.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Ilsa, just all the excitement," Sarah soothed. She then turned to face Ilsa's father, smiling brightly as she said in Russian, "In the meantime, if you would please introduce me to your father?"

* * *

Casey hustled Chuck through a door at the back of the reception hall and found a quiet corner where they wouldn't be overheard. By this time, Chuck had finished his flash, and he pulled his arm away from Casey's somewhat tight grip.

"Well?" Casey asked impatiently.

"Well, he's what Ilsa said he is," Chuck began, pushing the hair away from his forehead to help it cool a bit. "But I wouldn't exactly call him a model parent. He was in deep cover with the KGB for eighteen years before the agency was dissolved and was named on their missing and presumed dead list when the international reports were issued afterwards."

"That would explain why Ilsa was so upset when she saw him, then. She probably thought he was dead. Are you okay to go back now?" Casey asked.

Chuck looked at his friend, noting the concern on his face but also seeing that he was eager to get back to his wife's side.

"All set," Chuck responded, doing his best to smooth his tousled hair back into place. "And since I'm supposed to be the worse for wear from champagne, I hope you won't mind too much if I don't match vodkas with you, Casey."

Casey smiled, a hint of an evil gleam in his eyes.

"You wouldn't be able to anyway, Bartowski," he said as he turned to make his way back to the reception room.

"Wait, Casey!" exclaimed Chuck, "that wasn't a challenge! Ilsa's going to kill me!" and he hurried after his friend, thinking of punishments worse than death that Ilsa was capable of if her brand new husband got it into his head to drink too much just before their honeymoon.

* * *

When they emerged once more, the party seemed to be in full swing. Ilsa's father was just knocking back a shot of vodka as Chuck and Casey approached, and his face became serious after he put the small glass back on the tray and looked in their direction. Casey walked to Ilsa and put an arm around her shoulder. Looking into her smiling face, he was taken unawares when Trinchina suddenly slapped him on the back between the shoulder blades and half-embraced him from the other side, grabbing a full glass to offer to his new son-in-law.

Chuck, meanwhile, took his place next to Sarah. She shot him a worried look that cleared immediately when he smiled and nodded a "yes" to her, then she began to translate the conversation that was taking place in front of them.

"Papa, I'm so happy to see you again," Ilsa said, her face beaming.

"I'm just sorry I didn't get here sooner, my little one, to walk you down the aisle," her father responded. He looked at his daughter sadly for a moment, then kissed her on the forehead. "The paperwork takes so long, you understand, and then I didn't know about your wedding until I tracked you down here today."

"But, sir, why were you trying to hide? Why not just come in once you arrived?" Casey asked, downing his vodka with practiced ease.

"Oh, son, none of this 'sir' business. To you, I am papa, just like my little Ilsa here, no?" Patting Casey on the shoulder, Trinchina waited until Casey nodded his assent before continuing.

"I hadn't seen my little girl for many years. I wasn't sure what she would think about my appearing suddenly as if out of nowhere after so long," he explained, his brow crowded together and his eyes full of regret.

"Oh, papa!" exclaimed Ilsa. She threw her arms around her father's neck in a tight squeeze. "I've missed you so much, I wish we could have been together, but now that you're here, we have so much to catch up on, still so much life to live. Please say you can stay!"

Now it was Casey's turn to reassure the man with an arm around his back, and when Trinchina began to smile and then laugh, Ilsa loosened her hold on him. Tears of joy streaked her face as she looked hopefully first at her father, then at her husband.

"Casey," she said breathlessly, "my father, he's home!"

_Da, moya lyubov, da_," Casey replied as her happiness warmed his heart.

Chuck, standing next to Sarah, put his arms around her and pulled her close. "I love family reunions, don't you?" he said, and, wearing a broad smile, he kissed the end of her nose.

* * *

_da_ – yes

_moya lyubov_ – my love


	32. Festivities

"Casey", Chuck hissed, "don't you think you'd better slow down on the vodkas?"

"Don't worry, Bartowski, your wife is feeding me shots of water. Only about one in four is booze. Don't know how the old man is doing it, though."

Chuck turned his gaze to Ilsa's father, who was enjoying the party along with everyone else. Pausing occasionally for yet another shot, the jovial man accompanied each glass with a boisterous toast in Russian. The people in the room who didn't understand joined in at the end with loud whoops and arm flinging, and the ones who understood but had to pretend they didn't followed suit.

The only person who seemed to be keeping up with Vasily in the vodka department was Roan Montgomery, once again in the role of "Uncle Roan." "Aunt Diane" wasn't doing too badly either and was the first up on her feet when a Russian folk tune began to play. She had tucked her cane underneath a table as though she didn't plan on using it for a while and appeared to be waiting impatiently for Ilsa's father to ask for a dance.

Casey was first out of the gate however, as he swept his bride up in his arms and twirled her around in the air a couple of times before setting her down gently and beginning to dance. They were joined on the dance floor by Vasily and General Beckman a minute or two later. The general was, in effect, taking the place of Casey's mother in the dance, since the older woman's health didn't allow for such strenuous activity.

Next, Sarah and Chuck joined the group already dancing in a rather energetic waltz. The three couples turned in unison around and around the center, and with a little push of her arms and a quick whisper of "Change!" from Sarah, Chuck was able to keep up with the unfamiliar dance as the women, who, at a specific moment in the piece, were in the middle of the circle, hesitated for a beat so the men could whirl around them and change partners.

Chuck was pleased with the fact that he managed to do his part and make it look good until he beamed down into the face of the general. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, he stumbled a tiny bit but then recovered and turned the much shorter woman around and around until the next musical cue to change.

This time, Chuck was paired with Ilsa, and as they came together, she kissed him suddenly, first one cheek and then the other. It was a bit hard to hear her over the music and laughter and general noise in the room, but by leaning his head down a bit, Chuck was able to make it out.

"Chuck, thank you!" she called into his ear. "I owe this day to you. Casey told me how you encouraged him to fight for me when I was undercover for the Victor Federov mission. I'll always be grateful!"

And as they changed partners yet again for the final portion of the waltz, Chuck, receiving his lovely Sarah back into his arms, kissed her on each cheek, Russian-style, and announced to the room, "I love weddings!"

As the waltz finished and a polka started playing, CJ and Gaby were standing on the sidelines. Gaby watched the twirling grown-ups with a wistful look on her face. John, who was standing just behind and to the left of his twin, whispered, "We're all next, you know, so get in there," and gave his brother a none-too-gentle push between the shoulder blades in the general direction of the dance floor.

CJ flushed a bit as he stumbled, and when Gaby caught his other hand in hers to steady him, he managed to say in a rush, "Gaby, do you want to dance?"

In answer, the girl merely nodded and put her hands on CJ's shoulders, the way the women who were already on the dance floor were doing, leaving CJ to put his hands on her hips, and they whirled into the center of the room, hesitantly at first and then with more confidence as they coordinated their feet. Soon, they were beaming at each other and the three sets of adults around them as they spun and stomped their feet with enthusiasm.

Next came John and Marianne, followed by Lisa and Eddie. Devon and Ellie's son seemed to be having fun as he danced with his little cousin, all the while eyeing the room to get a good look at which other girls were there. Chuck, noticing this, smiled and nudged Sarah with a shrug of his shoulder in the young boy's direction.

"Glad to see that change," he observed, "and Marianne seems to have loosened up a bit as well."

"Not too loose, I hope," Sarah replied with a wry look. She was a bit relieved to notice that her younger son was also casing the room for talent, then gave herself a mental shake. "Father, I do believe our boys are growing up," she said as the polka drew to a close and the music changed to a nice, slow and sedate two-step.

"Yeah, I was afraid of that," Chuck said as he drew his wife into his arms and they began to sway together. "Oh, well, let's just hope they both find girls as nice and as naughty as their mother."

The Bartowski children turned their heads sharply in their parents' direction as Sarah shrieked, "Chuck Bartowski!" and swatted her husband on the arm, and as the three young couples danced close, John said, "I bet we're going to get that baby brother after all," which set off a loud giggling fit in the group.

"Or sister," added Lisa with a broad smile.

Since the music had slowed down quite a bit, more couples came onto the dance floor. Ellie and Devon embraced closely, enjoying the music, and John and Lisa and Marianne and Eddie each ran off to find other partners for a slow dance. CJ and Gaby stood for a moment, uncertain what to do.

Finally, CJ reached out to make a dance frame, which Gaby accepted. They danced together but still apart, a bit stiffly at the beginning, but when they finally determined the physical boundaries they were each comfortable with, the couple was able to relax and enjoy it. It was at that moment that CJ decided he would ask his mother about dance lessons, and he hugged his plan to himself, looking proudly at Gaby and then at the other dancers around them.

The party continued on in the same fashion for the next few hours, with some people sitting, some dancing, and some wandering back and forth between the tables and the buffet. Another set of slow songs was in progress and Gaby, much to CJ's chagrin, had directed him to dance with one of the other girls present. After the girl had calmed down enough to stop stepping on CJ's feet and he had resigned himself to not having every dance with Gaby, he was alarmed to see John sit down abruptly on a chair and go completely limp.

CJ stopped dancing but still held onto his partner, and he watched in horror as his twin, looking like an abandoned rag doll, slid to the floor in a boneless heap. Quickly making his way over to where Chuck and Sarah were sitting talking with Casey and Ilsa, he tugged on his father's sleeve and said, "Dad, John's in trouble!"


	33. Baby Casey

By the time the four agents and CJ had worked their way through the crowd on the dance floor to get to John, Devon was already kneeling on the floor beside him and checking his vital signs. Ellie had pulled a chair close to them so she could sit and observe, ready to assist if needed.

"Well, this one's going to be all right," Devon drawled, a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth when he turned his face upwards to look at the concerned adults. "Seems like he's just had a bit too much to drink."

"Drink?!" exclaimed Sarah and Ilsa simultaneously.

"Yes," Ellie answered, "as in vodka, since it's difficult to smell on his breath."

"And I think the best thing to do now is to get him out of here before he comes to. Might get a bit messy then," Devon instructed.

The surgeon slid an arm underneath John's knees and the other one under his shoulders and rose, turning to carry the boy to the men's room.

Ellie stood and put an arm around Sarah's shoulder to stop her from following for a moment while saying, "Look, I've just had an idea. I'm getting a bit tired and I think it's about time for me to go home. Once John is stabilized, why don't Devon and I take all the kids, including Gaby, home with us? We'll go to the amusement park or the beach tomorrow. That way, you and Chuck can stay here in the hotel for an extra day and just relax."

Sarah turned grateful eyes to her sister-in-law. "Oh, Ellie, that would be wonderful!" she exclaimed, turning around and giving the woman a warm hug. "I certainly could use some downtime and I know Chuck could."

"Well," Ellie said, a sly look creeping over her features, "I was thinking maybe you and little brother could work on that project of yours. You know the one."

"Ellie, just because you're pregnant doesn't mean everyone else has to be," Sarah responded sternly.

"Yes, it does, you and Ilsa both," said Ellie smugly before turning Sarah around and propelling her in the direction of the men's room.

* * *

When Sarah and Ellie pushed through the door, they saw John sitting on the edge of a countertop between two sinks. There was a greenish tinge to his face and he was having trouble remaining still. His slight swaying movement reminded Sarah of a sailor who had just made landfall and was still attuned to the rhythm of the waves.

Devon was holding a glass of water up to his lips trying to encourage him to drink and Chuck was standing off to one side, the boy's suit jacket draped over his arm. When John's bleary eyes caught sight of his mother, tears began to leak out of the corners of them and he held his arms out to her.

"Momma," he cried out piteously, "I feel so –"

John then turned his head to one side and leaned over the nearby sink, giving them all a very graphic demonstration of just how he felt by vomiting noisily, moaning and groaning all the while.

When John was through, Devon managed to get him to start sipping water and Ellie went to round up the other children and ask permission of the Charbonneaus to borrow their daughter for the rest of the weekend.

* * *

The Woodcombs said their goodbyes and had just left with their young charges. When Chuck and Sarah turned back to the party, they immediately noticed that Casey's mother was the center of a gathering of women that was exclaiming over a book she had laid out on the table in front of her. The person most intent on its contents was Ilsa, who was almost jumping up and down in her excitement and laughing with delight.

Casey, who was standing off to one side with Vasily, was holding his head in one hand while shaking it slowly from side to side. His father-in-law oozed compassion, patting him gently on the shoulder as he shoved another glass of vodka into the agent's hand. Casey downed it immediately and glanced over at the gathering, a look of trepidation on his face.

When Chuck turned his attention back to the table of women, he saw Sarah had joined them. She was pointing excitedly towards a page in the book and had spoken to Casey's mother, and when Chuck approached within earshot, this is what he heard.

"Oh, yes, my Johnny-Boy was such an angel," Mrs. Casey said, beaming up into the ring of rapt female faces surrounding her. "He almost never cried, although he used to make the strangest faces sometimes, like he was angry at the world and about to burst. I think it was just gas, though."

"Still is," Chuck whispered into Sarah's ear before looking down at the table to see what had captured everyone's attention.

It was an old photo album with black pages full of photographs held in place with paper corner brackets. Chuck almost gasped when he realized what the photos were.

It was Casey, no doubt about it. In the first picture Chuck focused on, the child's face was pulled into a fierce grimace, the one Chuck called a number six. And no wonder the baby was angry. He was sitting in a bathtub where someone, presumably the photographer, had piled soap bubbles on top of his head and used them to create two devil's horns from his long, dark curly hair. The poor kid – Casey, Chuck mentally corrected – had probably gotten soap in his eye.

Chuck glanced up at his friend, who was still standing apart with Vasily, and shot him a large grin before turning back to see what other treasures this collection of photos from the past held.

Next was the obligatory naked baby on a furry rug in front of the fireplace. Little Casey wasn't scowling in this one, however. He was wearing a sunny smile, if nothing else, as he clutched onto a sad-looking teddy bear that looked as though it had been through the ringer.

A collective "Awwwwwww" went up from the assembled women, causing Casey to sink his head farther into his hand. Chuck was almost beginning to feel sorry for the man.

Mrs. Casey began to speak once more. "He was always such a thoughtful and loving son," she recounted. "He loved flowers even though he wasn't always clear on what a flower was. He would come home clutching a bunch of weeds from the empty lot down the street, bless his little soul, and give them to me, saying, 'Here, mama, these are because I love you,' and it would just about break my heart every time."

She paused for effect and to wait for the exclamations and feminine coos to die down.

"And he was never above pulling flowers from the neighbors' flowerbeds to give to me either, the little rascal," she continued, turning the back cover of the album to close it and handing the book to Ilsa.

"Anyway, here, daughter, I wanted you to have this to look at and show your children when they come along. I've probably only got a little time left so I wanted to make sure you got that."

Amid a chorus of denials and reassurances, the old woman held her ground and handed the album over to a grateful Ilsa, who leaned down and kissed her mother-in-law on the cheek.

Chuck turned away and sauntered over to the groom, who seemed more than a little relieved that the photo album was being put away. Chuck had never been able to resist teasing his friend, and since this was too good an opportunity to pass up, Casey could see it coming a mile away.

"What, Bartowski? Say your piece and get it over with," the big man growled out. "Then we can get back to the party."

"Take it easy, Casey," Chuck said, making a great effort to control his facial expression and mostly failing. "I just want to know, did you always have such rosy cheeks?"

"It's just my coloring, Bartowski," Casey replied, running a hand over one side of his jaw as he spoke. "I have fair skin. I burn easily."

"I wasn't talking about your face, Casey," Chuck replied, finally losing control and bursting into laughter as he jumped out of the way of Casey's reach.


	34. Arrangements

The party was beginning to wind down, and not a moment too soon, in Sarah's estimation. She couldn't wait to get upstairs to hers and Chuck's room for some peace and quiet after a very hectic day. Maybe room service, a bath, a little one-on-one with her husband, maybe even –

Sarah snapped herself out of her little reverie. It was time to take care of the business at hand, which was to wrap this up and get Ilsa and Casey settled. Preferably before they started their honeymoon in the middle of the dance floor. Which was looking more and more likely by the second. Oh, dear. Luckily for Sarah, Chuck got to them first.

"What is it with you guys? You're worse than teenagers. Teenagers who happen to be rabbits," he said, putting a friendly hand on Casey's back.

"Casey. Ilsa. Casey. Ilsa."

When Chuck realized he was going to have to resort to slightly more drastic tactics to get their attention, he drew his hand back and brought his palm down sharply on the agent's shoulder. Sarah, watching from a safe distance, winced and cringed a bit. Deciding it was best to help her husband out after all before he got himself killed – or at least severely injured – she made her way quickly over to the trio.

"Can't you see I'm busy, Bartowski?" snarled Casey, letting his wife go and turning towards his friend.

"Uh, yeah, Casey, and so can everybody else in the room," Chuck observed, turning his head from side to side to take in the guests, who were trying to unobtrusively observe the scene.

"Go away, Chuck," Ilsa slurred, but as she was about to pull Casey back towards her, Sarah intervened and began to steer the bride to one of the tables lining the dance floor. The woman was completely intoxicated, not by champagne or vodka but by her husband's passionate kisses.

When the four were finally seated and Casey and Ilsa were separated by their friends, who were sitting between them, Chuck began.

"Look," he said, "Sarah and I have had an idea. Ilsa, if your father wants to, he can live at our house for a few months. That way, it will give you two some time alone together and our kids can have a grandpa around. I assume you want him to stay, right?"

"Oh, Chuck, that would be wonderful!" Ilsa exclaimed eagerly. "You'd really do that for us?"

She turned to Sarah, her eyes glistening with tears and hope.

"Of course we would do it, Ilsa. We wouldn't have offered otherwise," Sarah replied reassuringly. "Then when he's a bit more settled, he can either find his own place or move in with you two."

Chuck turned to look at Casey, not sure what the big man's expression would reveal. Much to Chuck's surprise, Casey's response was quick and emphatic.

"He'll move in with us, right, Ilsa?" he stated, a big smile splitting his face at the prospect.

Ilsa must have been a bit surprised too. She hesitated a moment, then asked uncertainly, "Are you sure, Casey?"

Several heads turned their way as the groom's loud voice boomed out, "Of course I'm sure!"

"Well," Sarah said decisively while standing, "we might as well ask him now, then," and she headed off to pry Vasily away from charming General Beckman under the watchful, watery eyes of Roan Montgomery.

* * *

By the time Sarah had returned, the older Russian trailing in her wake, Casey had managed to switch seats so that he was once again beside Ilsa. Sarah noted with approval that they were making do with hand-holding this time, however, and when Vasily had held Sarah's chair for her and then seated himself, Ilsa plunged right in.

"Papa, if you intend to stay in America, we would like you to live with us," she said, turning to beam at Casey, who nodded his approval.

Over Vasily's immediate protests, Chuck added, "We live next door and you can stay with us for a while at first. Then when the time is right, you can move in with Casey and Ilsa."

Ilsa jumped up from her chair and ran around the table. She threw her arms around her father's neck and her chin began to tremble with fear at his initial rejection of the idea.

"Oh, papa," she whispered in Russian, "please say you'll do it. I can't bear to lose you again."

Vasily pulled back from his daughter's embrace, searching her tear-filled eyes for just a moment. He turned his head to look at Casey, who emphatically nodded in consent, and when he turned back again to look at Ilsa, he placed a palm on her cheek and replied, "_Da_, daughter, I will stay and I will live with you."

If he said anything more, it was swallowed up in the boisterous expressions of approval from the remaining three agents and Ilsa's ecstatic squeals as she hugged and kissed him exuberantly.

* * *

The last of the guests had been seen out the door and the hotel staff began to trickle in to start their cleanup. The only people left were General Beckman, Roan Montgomery, Vasily Trinchina and Chuck and Sarah. Casey's mother and sister were saying their goodbyes to Casey and Ilsa.

"Now, Johnny-Boy, you give this wonderful girl a bit of a chance to breathe now and then," Casey's mother was saying over her shoulder as she moved slowly towards the door.

"Yes, mother," came the dutiful reply. It was accompanied, however, with a twinkle Casey aimed at his sister, who held Mrs. Casey under an elbow with one hand while miming a cell phone with her other hand and mouthing _Call me soon!_ in Casey's direction.

He nodded and slipped an arm around Ilsa's waist, turning her back to the much smaller group to discuss their final plans. Huddled in a close knot in the middle of the dance floor, they were able to speak in low voices so the staff couldn't hear. If one or another of the help wandered a bit too close, General Beckman warned them away with a glare that was guaranteed to send chills down the spine of someone standing on the equator.

"Agents," she began, "now that the wedding is over and all the civilians have left, I thought it would be a good opportunity to have the briefest of briefings. I've already spoken to Vasily, since he wants to stay, and he has agreed to join the NSA in an advisory capacity. So much experience should not go to waste."

Murmurs of congratulations interrupted the general's speech, which she tolerated for about 3.5 seconds before continuing.

"What you don't yet know and what I outlined to Ilsa at the engagement party is that I want Ilsa and Vasily to be made aware of the real purpose of Team Bartowski. If you're all going to be living together, as it were, it seems like the right thing to do. And providing more backup and security for Chuck and the Intersect is never a bad idea."

"Thank you, General," Chuck said, his tone sincere.

"There are some more details upcoming that I won't burden you with now. We'll deal with them after Agent Casey's honeymoon is over. In the meantime, Casey, please brief your wife as to the nature of Team Bartowski and the Intersect in particular, including her potential role in the team. I'll fill in more details later on. I just need her to have a general idea at the moment. Agent Montgomery and I will brief Agent Trinchina, who has expressed a desire to visit Disneyland. We will deliver him to Chuck and Sarah's house in three or four days' time. That is all."

Ilsa turned to Casey and took both his hands in hers. "Casey, my first assignment already!" she exclaimed before she was interrupted by Sarah.

Whispering loudly in her friend's ear so the whole group could hear, Sarah said, "Ilsa, I think the General would agree that your first assignment is your honeymoon."

With that, the group of people, laughing loudly and conversing all at once, left the reception room, Casey and Ilsa and Chuck and Sarah on their way to their rooms and the general and her two dapper escorts off to experience the joys of riding in whirling, brightly colored teacups.

* * *

_da_ - yes


	35. Wedded Bliss

The two couples rode up in the elevator in silence, mindful of not only the possibility but the fact that, somewhere in the basement of the hotel, some type of video device was softly humming, recording their journey. The only motion visible once they had settled into their places was that of four pairs of eyes flicking up to the floor number indicator then back down and to the sides to glance at each other.

When the elevator reached their floor and they had disembarked, the agents paused for a moment to wish each other a good evening. None of them wanted to draw it out, however, and the two women embraced as the men shook hands. When Sarah had released her, Ilsa turned to Chuck and kissed him on both cheeks, smiling happily.

"I'm starting to see what all the fuss is about," she said playfully as she stepped back and grasped her man's hand with a possessive air.

Chuck opened his mouth to reply, but before he could get the words out, Sarah tugged on his elbow and began to drag him down the hallway to their room, calling out as they went, "Oh, Ilsa, it only gets better from here, trust me."

Casey chuckled as he watched his partner manhandle his friend. "Shall we, Mrs. Casey?" he said to Ilsa. He released her hand and tucked it into a crooked elbow, fishing around in his pocket with the other hand for the room key card.

"By all means, Mr. Casey," she replied, and they moved down the hall in the direction opposite from Sarah and Chuck to the honeymoon suite that had been reserved for them.

* * *

Sarah made a mental note to ask the concierge where they had gotten the carpet. The one in the bathroom. The one with the soft, thick pile. It tickled her skin, creating the most delicious tingling sensation that complemented the tingling sensation along the trail of kisses that her husband was expertly laying along the side of her neck, down past her ear, along the bottom of her jaw and down to her collarbone and beyond.

"Mmmmm, Chuck, I really did want to have a bath, you know," she purred as he continued on his osculatory journey.

Chuck paused just for a moment to mumble into the warm skin of her belly. "You're not dirty enough yet," he said.

Sarah could feel his lips curve into a smile, barely touching her. She raised a hand to her hair and arched her neck and the small of her back as Chuck grasped her waist, a hand just above each hip, and began in earnest to show her just how much he adored her.

For Sarah, the hotel's bathroom carpet seemed to be turning into Aladdin's magic carpet as she reached her other hand down and tangled her fingers in her husband's hair. She let herself go and they flew away together on their sensual journey.

* * *

Later, as Sarah relaxed, happily exhausted, in a bathtub full of scented bubbles, she tried not to drift off. She let a ghost of a grin flash across her face as she recalled why, not half an hour earlier, Chuck had declared her ready for her bath. His eyes had opened wide, his mouth forming a shocked "O" as Sarah took her turn. The wine, the festivities, even the tensions of the day finally releasing had all served to give them both a second wind and, it seemed, a second honeymoon, and they explored each other as though it were their first honeymoon more than ten years previously.

Finally, Chuck, ready to admit that he needed a break, had left Sarah on their bed covered lightly with a sheet while he went to draw the bath for her. After he had added the bubble bath, making the tub look like some frothy concoction from a soda fountain, he returned and picked Sarah up, carrying her gently to the bathroom and placing her into the hot water up to her chin.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, blowing her a kiss before turning to leave the room.

Sarah was more than a bit disappointed that he hadn't joined her but decided to try to enjoy her bath without him. Maybe she could entice him in later on. After she had rested a bit more. Yeah.

* * *

When Chuck returned about twenty minutes later, he snuck into the bathroom so stealthily that Sarah almost didn't hear him before he was in the tub with her. She jolted a bit and tried to sit up when he raised a foot to bring it over the edge of the tub, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder before climbing in completely. They sloshed the water around quite a bit but managed to avoid flooding the floor as Chuck maneuvered around so Sarah was lying on top of him face-to-face in the water, his back propped against the end of the bathtub.

"Where were you?" Sarah murmured into his neck, now a bit wet and soapy tasting on her tongue.

"Just arranging something for later," he replied. He tightened his arms around her and settled in, happy just to hold her close.

Sarah pulled her head back a bit so she could look into Chuck's face.

"Is the water still warm enough? I think we've lost all the bubbles."

She began to squirm, intent on fixing the situation, but Chuck held tight until she quieted down again.

"Shh, shh," he whispered, "it's okay, I don't want to be in here too long. I just wanted to feel you all slippery."

Sarah, now a bit rested, closed her eyelids halfway and let her blue eyes smolder a bit. "You mean like this?" she asked.

Squirming and sliding and snaking around inside Chuck's embrace, she watched his face as he tried in vain not to react.

"Woman," Chuck groaned, "you're going to kill me."

"Well," Sarah quipped as she continued with her program of slow torture, "at least when they carry you out feet first you'll have a smile on your face."

And, yes, not much later, there was a little bit of a flood in the bathroom.

* * *

After Sarah and Chuck had climbed out of the tub and dried each other off with the hotel's big, fluffy towels, they put on comfortable terry robes and went back into the bedroom. When she walked through the door, Sarah gasped in surprise at what awaited her there.

Chuck had somehow taken delivery of dozens of long-stemmed red roses while Sarah had been snoozing in the bathtub, and the vases were placed all over the room. As well, the covers had been pulled up on the bed and its surface was strewn with red rose petals. Some candles had also been lit and put on various surfaces, the shifting light giving the darkened room a mysterious cast.

Beside the bed on a room service trolley was a champagne bucket with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and two flutes, each with a red satin bow tied around the stem. Beside them, a bowl of large red strawberries beckoned invitingly.

But what finally captured all of Sarah's attention was the large rectangular blue velvet box that lay next to the bowl of strawberries, and she walked over and reached out to brush the surface of it with her fingers.

Sarah turned her head to gaze at Chuck, her eyes beginning to glisten in the flickering light as a sheen of tears collected there. He moved over beside her and urged her to sit down on the edge of the bed next to him before reaching out and picking up the blue box. Levering the lid open, he displayed the necklace inside, a string of classic pearls.

"One for each year since we met," he explained softly as he removed the necklace from the box.

Sarah stood and dropped her robe to the floor, then turned her back to Chuck and glanced coyly over her shoulder. He stood too and looped the necklace under her chin and waited for a moment so she could gather up her still-wet and tangled hair into a knot on the top of her head.

After Chuck had fastened the clasp, he turned Sarah around to face him again. It was his turn to feel the rush of tingling now as Sarah undid his robe and pushed it from his shoulders and to the floor. She had never looked lovelier to him, still a bit wet, her hair a mess, with the pearls glistening against her smooth skin, her eyes saying so much to him.

Chuck grasped onto the covers and pulled them back, scattering rose petals everywhere, and they sank to the bed together, looking into each other's eyes, each one marveling how this night was bringing them closer together, even closer than they had been that morning.


	36. Intimacies

Casey released himself from Ilsa's light grasp so he could open the door to the room, then turned to her and, in one smooth movement, caught his wife up in his arms and spun back around. She quickly latched her arms around his neck, and just before Casey stepped over the threshold, Ilsa looked past his shoulder at the sound of applause and some enthusiastic whooping.

A small group of hotel guests, seemingly more than a bit worse for alcohol, had come out of one of the rooms just in time to watch the newlyweds disappear into their suite, and they expressed their best wishes and encouragement quite loudly. A couple of the men even shouted out a few pointers for Casey's benefit, so by the time he had swiveled his backside around to push the door closed, Ilsa was laughing helplessly into his neck.

He smiled as he let her feet slide to the floor and kept his arms circled around her waist, gazing fondly into her sparkling eyes.

"Casey," she said, an amused smile turning up her mouth.

"Hmmm?" he inquired, his eyes locked on hers.

"I can't get out of my dress until you let go of me," she clarified. Reaching up, she ran the tips of her fingers very lightly from his temple, past his ear and along his jaw line and smiled with satisfaction as she watched him shiver with delight.

Casey lowered his head to her upturned face and contacted her lips with his, gently at first, then with more pressure as Ilsa relaxed into him and allowed him to support her weight when his arms tightened around her. After a few moments, he raised his head away from hers and looked at her again, his eyes heavily lidded now. Ilsa was pretty sure that if he hadn't still been holding her so securely she would have slipped to the floor in a warm heap.

When he was sure Ilsa could stand on her own again, Casey released her and turned her around so her back was facing him. He slowly unzipped her wedding dress then turned her again.

"Hurry back," was all he said before pointing her in the direction of the bathroom and giving her a gentle shove.

* * *

Quite some time later, lying in the large and comfortable bed in each other's arms, the couple had decided by mutual agreement to pause in their lovemaking for a bit of a rest. Casey reached up and tenderly brushed a strand of hair, wetted by perspiration, from Ilsa's eyes. They were both able to breathe a bit better now but not so well yet that they could speak.

Eyes roaming over her face as though he were trying to memorize it, Casey sighed and allowed a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. Ilsa shifted around a bit so that her body was snugged up as close to his as she could get it. Her low, "Mmmmmmm," as she settled herself into the new position was the best she could manage as far as words went, but Casey didn't need words from her to know that she was satisfied. He could feel it in the way she relaxed completely into his embrace.

The groom, by this time, was feeling more than a little smug. He had performed his husbandly duties better than admirably, judging by Ilsa's reactions, and he was proud to be able to say he was married. Casey's assessment of marriage in the past, as it turned out, had been a defense mechanism. It was something he couldn't have so he pretended he didn't want it. Well, he wanted it, all right, and he wanted his wife. Just not for another half hour or so.

As these musings turned into random thoughts of the wedding itself, the events of the reception and a scattered checklist concerning their upcoming honeymoon trip, Casey, who thought Ilsa had fallen asleep, was surprised to feel her body suddenly stiffen in his arms and start to tremble. He instinctively tightened his embrace and began to soothe her.

"Shhh, shhh, honey, what's wrong?" he asked, worry clouding his brow.

After a few more convulsive sobs, Casey was finally able to get Ilsa to turn her face up to look at him, and when she spoke, it was in a barely audible whisper.

"Casey, my papa, when he appeared at the wedding today, is that what it was like for you when you thought I had died? And then came back?"

"Shhhh, Ilsa, that's all a long time ago now."

"Oh, Casey, I'm so sorry."

"You did what you had to do at the time, my love. It was your job, remember?"

Ilsa pulled back so she could look into Casey's eyes. Reaching a tentative hand up to caress his temple, she directed a look so full of sorrow at her husband that it caused a lump to form in his throat.

"My job," she began, her voice low. Sounding fierce and angry, she continued. "Our jobs. They're what have kept us apart for so long. And I can't even begin to tell you how I regret that now."

Casey pulled Ilsa to him briefly before replying. He once again smoothed the damp hair from her face as a small smile lit up his eyes.

"Remember what you told your father earlier, my lovely wife? How he should forget regrets of the past and concentrate on the future? Well, I think we should do the same. Because we don't have any more time to waste in regrets."

Ilsa's tears spilled over her eyelids as her smile matched her husband's. "You're right, Casey, no regrets," she said.

Anything else she might have been about to say was cut off when Casey began to kiss her again, and as his hands traveled tenderly along her skin, Ilsa was able to push aside her worries. Concentrating on what she was feeling now, both emotionally and physically, was taking up her whole world, and after a while, when their excitement reached a fever pitch, she knew that she had ultimately made the right choice, and she would be with this man until the end.

* * *

Casey and Ilsa, once again exhausted, held each other close as they both fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. Soon they would have to leave the hotel and board an NSA jet for two weeks at an undisclosed location. Once there, they would stay in an exclusive and luxurious hotel in a tropical climate, but until then, there was nobody else in the world, only the two of them.

But as they slept, the precise time it happened unknown to either of them, their daughter Ekaterina Moira Casey was experiencing the first moment of her being.


	37. On the Beach

"Well, the kids seem to be getting along better now," Devon observed to Ellie as he nudged his beach chair over closer to hers under the broad umbrella and sat down.

Lisa was curled up on a beach towel on the other side of Ellie's chair, her regular breathing signaling that she was asleep. The excitement of the wedding and reception of the previous day had finally caught up with the little girl.

Devon handed Ellie the bottle of iced tea she had requested, and she took it while plucking the straw from between two of his fingers. She unscrewed the bottle top and put it in the pocket of her cotton cover-up before popping the straw into the cool beverage and taking a long, slow sip.

"Ahhh," she moaned after she had swallowed the tea. "That's awesome. Thanks, hon."

Devon closed the book he had just opened, using his finger to hold his place, and reached his free hand across the gap between their chairs to caress Ellie's forearm. He smiled and gave her a fond look over the rim of the half-glasses he used for reading and she returned an identical smile. For this kind of deeply affectionate communication between the pair, words were unnecessary. After a short pause in his conversation, Devon picked it up again.

"Yeah, hon, I think I prefer it when Marianne and Eddie aren't talking to each other, especially in the car."

"And most especially stuck on the freeway," Ellie continued the thought while rolling her eyes. "But I must say, CJ and Gaby are a breath of fresh air. I don't think I've ever met a pair of children as mature as they are at that age."

"Almost makes up for John," Devon observed, directing a wry look at his wife. "At least his little hangover has kept him a lot more subdued than usual. I wonder how long that will last?"

* * *

It didn't last long. John and Eddie were sitting in the sand some distance from the adults under their own umbrella having a private conversation. They were concentrating so hard on the subject of their discussion they didn't hear Marianne and Gaby and CJ returning from the water, and the two cousins jumped a bit when CJ got close enough to be able to shake his wet hair over them, covering them with a light salt water spray.

"Hey!" Eddie exclaimed, anger clear in his tone.

Marianne moved to stand a bit in front of CJ as Eddie began to raise himself up from his beach towel, his fists clenched.

"He didn't mean anything by it, Ed. Calm down." she said serenely while toweling the ends of her hair dry.

Marianne paused suddenly in her hair drying and peered down at the sand near the two seated boys. The surface had been smoothed out and there appeared to be some marks scratched into the area, a picture of some sort.

"What's that?" the girl asked, curious.

John, who suddenly seemed nervous, flushed a bit and swiped his hand through the marks, obliterating them.

"Nothing," the blond boy said in a tone of voice so full of guilt that his listeners could only conclude that, whatever it had been, it was something.

Marianne towered over her younger brother and said simply, "Tell us or I'll tell mom."

The glare that this elicited from the boy was intense, but his sister's cool composure outmatched it, and Eddie relented after only a few heartbeats.

"Okay, but you all have to swear on the thing you hold most sacred that you won't tell."

The other four children nodded solemnly. After they had settled to the sand, they each extended a hand into the center of the group, first Eddie, then John, Marianne, CJ, and finally Gaby.

Eddie went first, and then the rest in order of the hands.

"I swear on my new baseball mitt."

"Classic copy of Bruce Lee's _Enter the Dragon_ that dad found for me."

"The high heels I got for my birthday."

"They're not high heels, Marianne," Eddie interjected, "they're hardly off the ground."

Marianne's head snapped around and it was her turn to glare and abandon her usual cool demeanor. "All right, then, my new heels. Is that okay?"

"Good," Eddie said, pleased to be recognized as the de facto leader of the group for a change. "CJ, your turn."

CJ hesitated for a moment. If he were going to swear on the thing he held most sacred, then that would have to be Gaby, and he glanced at her quickly with apologies in his eyes, hoping that she would understand when instead he said, "My telescope." A look of relief washed over his face when he felt the merest squeeze of Gaby's hand on his and turned towards her again to see the reassurance in her eyes.

"And Gaby?" prompted Eddie, now impatient to get the little ceremony over with.

"My photo album," she declared with finality, punctuating her statement with a sharp nod of her head.

As they all dropped hands, CJ raised his eyebrows in an unasked question. What pictures did the photo album hold and would he get a chance to see it? Gaby's expression was inscrutable, and she quickly looked past him to Eddie, who had risen up to his knees so he could address his rapt audience.

"I was at my friend's place, Billy Coogan," he began, his voice in a barely audible whisper. "Well, his dad has these magazines, you know, hidden in the closet."

Eddie paused for dramatic effect and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"What kind of magazines?" Gaby asked in all innocence.

She was a bit dumbfounded when both Eddie and John snorted loudly, then felt tears prick at her eyes when even CJ smiled at her confusion. Marianne, however, was quick to put a comforting arm around the girl's shoulder and say to the laughing boys, her voice full of scorn, "These wouldn't be dirty magazines by any chance, would they?"

Eddie and John, after a few more guffaws, got themselves under control again. Eddie was the one who answered.

"Well, some people don't think sex is dirty, you know," he said, self-righteously.

Marianne countered with, "Yeah, like you know anything about it."

John and Eddie exchanged a look before simultaneously replying, "We do now."

"That's what the picture in the sand was," John continued helpfully. "You see, what happens is..."

* * *

Devon glanced up from his book to see the group of children sitting on the sand, heads close together, having a very serious discussion about something. He regarded them for only a moment before putting his book down and getting up out of his chair. Ellie roused from her nap at the movement, but he gestured for her to stay put, then moved towards the knot of cousins plus one.

As Devon approached, they continued talking quietly. Eddie was gesturing to something in the sand in the center of the group, and his voice raised a bit as he argued his point.

"I tell you, that's what the picture was. You can believe me or not. I don't care," he said a little heatedly.

"Oh, gosh!" exclaimed Marianne, looking a little pale.

CJ, on the other hand, was flushed a bright red. John had returned to the slight green cast that his face had shown on the previous day just before his stomach had rejected the vodka.

Gaby was strangely silent, her eyes as big as saucers.

Devon finally got close enough to see what they were all so intent on. The puzzled look on his face only lasted for a moment to be replaced by the dawning of recognition followed by a smirk of amusement.

Too late, Eddie realized his father was standing over them, and he hurriedly brushed the sand drawing away with a jerky motion of his hand.

"Dad –" he began, but Devon cut him off by hunkering down beside the children and placing a soft hand on his son's arm.

"Looks like you kids need an anatomy lesson. Some of the details weren't quite right there, Eddie. Might not be such a scary proposition for you all after you find out the facts," he said, his usual good humor and gentle nature evident.

Gaby let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in and began to laugh with relief. "Thank goodness," she finally managed to blurt out, which caused everyone to laugh along with her.

Devon stood up and addressed the group. "Come on, I think it's time to get back home and have some supper and maybe an early night. And Eddie."

"Yes, dad?"

"I think you'd better leave the artwork to CJ from now on."


	38. CJ Takes a Chance

Devon pulled the car up to the curb in front of Gaby's house. "Here we are," he announced while glancing in the rearview mirror.

What he saw in the reflection caused him to pause for a moment. CJ and Gaby were sitting quietly, holding hands as they usually did these days, but there was something a bit different this time. Even though they weren't speaking or even really looking at each other, Devon suddenly had the feeling that he was intruding on a very intimate moment, and on an impulse, he changed what he had been about to say.

"Lisa, John, why don't you stay here with me and CJ can walk Gaby to her door, okay?" he suggested in a tone that made it sound more like an order.

John, who was riding shotgun, glanced at his uncle, and when Devon turned his head to look at his nephew's puzzled face, he could see the wheels turning. To be fair, it did only take a couple of seconds for John to figure the situation out, but having the thought process clearly mapped out on his young face was enough to cause Devon to grin and say, "You and me, buddy, poker. I'll clean you out," which set John's brain off on another little voyage in pursuit of the hidden meaning in the older man's statement.

While John's attention was fully occupied, CJ and Gaby climbed out of the car. They went around the back and Devon popped the hatch so CJ could pull Gaby's overnight bag from the back. He slung it over his shoulder and closed the hatch, then offered his hand to Gaby, and they very slowly made their way up the walk to the front door of the Charbonneau home, pausing just before they got to the door.

"I had a nice time with your aunt and uncle and cousins, CJ," Gaby said shyly. "I'm glad they invited me."

"Well, you're kind of like family now, Gaby," CJ blurted out. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he realized another meaning that might be attached to them and froze, dropping Gaby's hand as he began to stutter an apology.

"I mean – that is – I don't –"

Gaby was quick to reassure him. Laughing lightly, she reached out to grasp his hand again, his arm now dangling limply by his side.

"That's okay, CJ, I understand what you meant," she said gently. "Besides, I like being part of your family," she added, moving a bit closer to the boy. "They're all nice and very good agents. If nothing else, I can learn a lot about being a spy from hanging around all of you."

CJ smiled at this statement. "Yeah," he agreed, "they've all got a lot of experience, don't they? Mom and dad and Uncle Johnny and Auntie Ilsa. I guess that's what happens when you work for a long time with someone you, uh, you know, like," he ended weakly, turning his face downwards to look at the pavement.

CJ was struggling once more, and his face turned a bit pink. He'd done it again! But now, since it seemed apparent that his brain was no longer in control of his mouth, he added in a whisper while avoiding Gaby's eyes, "When you like them. A lot."

Gaby didn't try to answer or reassure him this time, though, and when he finally felt he had control of himself, CJ raised his eyes so he could discover her reaction to this obscure, roundabout, ill-worded, half-baked, implied confession of love that had sprung unbidden to the boy's lips from someplace in his heart that he had barely been aware of just a moment before.

What if it was too soon? They were just kids, after all. What if she ran into the house and never spoke to him again? She'd phone all her girlfriends and they'd laugh on the phone together about the lovesick sap who'd bared his heart on the front steps. There'd be more laughing and pointing at school. Some kids would even sing that stupid song that was as old as Methuselah himself about sitting in trees and kissing and – man, that song was about making babies!

After their little impromptu sex ed lesson on the beach the day before, here he was talking about his feelings – well, sort of talking about his feelings – with this girl who didn't seem to have a clue about all that sex stuff before Eddie had scratched his crude drawing in the sand. Now she was going to think he was some kind of a pervert or something. That he only wanted one thing. And now he even knew what that meant, "one thing."

So what could he do to fix it? Gaby was probably getting ready to dump him right now. See, her face was kind of blank. Well, it had only been about one second since he'd said that last totally stupid thing about like – about love, really. Maybe he could just make a break for it back to the car. Oh, yeah, almost forgot. Maybe he could just quickly collect Flash, who had been staying with Gaby's parents, drop Gaby's bag, and run for the car like a thief after a robbery. Uncle Devon could squeal the tires as they peeled off and made a quick U-turn to drive back to their hideaway – er, their house. Gaby would never have to see him again.

Wait. Another second had gone by. Her mouth was opening. To yell at him. To tell him off. To say she never wanted to see him again. Here it comes.

Gaby's lips parted as her mouth curved into a brilliant smile. Leaning forwards and going up on her toes a bit, she placed her cheek against CJ's, on the side away from the car so its occupants couldn't really make out what was happening, and whispered into CJ's ear.

"I like you too, CJ. A lot."

Just as CJ's overactive brain was registering the warmth of her cheek on his and the meaning of her breathy words as they drilled right into the center of his thick head, she turned slightly and kissed his face, her lips lingering longer than she usually allowed before she stepped back again, looked into his eyes, and radiated her happiness as clear as day.

CJ let go of the tension he had built up during the brief but nerve-wracking moments of waiting and smiled back at her, a mental "Whew" showing in his body language as his shoulders relaxed, and he adopted a straighter posture while a cocky quirk fixed itself to one side of his mouth.

Gaby reached up and took her bag from CJ's shoulder, then turned away and opened the front door, calling out as she entered. Her mother met her in the front hall holding onto Flash's leash, which she traded for the bag, and Gaby came back outside to deliver the dog to CJ.

"Phone me later?" she asked and instructed at the same time, smiling coyly.

"You bet," CJ responded, and he turned towards the street and walked quickly back to the car, swiveling his upper body around halfway for a final wave before climbing in with Flash and shutting the door.

When the two had settled down and CJ had put on his and Flash's seat belts, Devon looked into the rear view mirror once more, establishing eye contact with his nephew.

"Everything copacetic?" the man inquired, his eyes sparkling.

"Uncle Devon," the boy answered, "if that means 'awesome,' then, yeah, it sure is!"


	39. History Lesson

Devon was persuaded to stay for dinner that evening when he delivered the children, and since the weather wasn't too warm, Chuck had barbequed some chicken while Sarah threw together a salad and steamed some string beans. When they had finished eating and the children had gone off to their own pursuits, the three adults remained around the table on the back patio to relax and talk for a while before Devon had to drive back home.

"How's Ellie really doing?" inquired Sarah of her brother-in-law. "She's always so self-sufficient, sometimes it's hard to tell whether she needs help or not. And now that Casey and Ilsa's wedding is over, I just want to know from you whether we've been neglecting her or not."

Devon looked from Sarah to Chuck and, when he noted their concerned expressions, an extremely tender look came over his face as he considered what he should say.

"Ellie, well, she's just awesome, we all know that, especially Chuck."

Chuck raised his beer bottle into the air in a silent tribute to his sister.

"But I think she's worrying more about this pregnancy than the last two. She's mentioned more than a couple of times that she's exhausted or angry for no reason, and that just isn't Ellie. I think it frustrates her since Marianne and Eddie were comparatively easy for her."

Devon paused a moment and his brows furrowed. The change in his face caused him to look much older than usual all of a sudden, and his words echoed this impression.

"Fact is, none of us are getting any younger, and it's been quite hard on her. I'm almost sorry for putting her through it again."

His usual good-natured smile returned suddenly, erasing the image of advancing age, though, as he added, "Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that we're having another child. But I think it's time for the old snip-snip."

Chuck's face blanched a bit at this pronouncement, and Sarah, who had seen his reaction, smiled to herself. "It's okay, Chuck," she commented, "you're safe for the time being, remember?"

Chuck took a hasty gulp of his beer before replying, "Sarah, you know how I hate needles? Well, I think now I'm not too fond of scalpels either."

Turning to Devon, he quipped, "No offense, bro," to which the surgeon replied, "None taken."

* * *

Sarah had put Lisa to bed and was coming downstairs into the living room just as Chuck and the boys were sitting down to begin their little conference. She leaned on the door jamb and asked, "Boys only?" while smiling gently at her sons.

Devon had explained the sand-drawing episode at the beach and apologized for Eddie's part in it. He seemed more amused than Chuck at the prospect of giving his son "the talk" and said he would be taking care of the task that evening when he got home. Ellie had already spoken with Marianne, who had apparently taken it rather well once things were explained properly, and Devon, being the optimist that he was, didn't seem concerned.

Sarah wasn't concerned either. All she had to do was call the Charbonneaus, tell them what had happened, and let them decide what to do about Gaby. The rough bit for Sarah was still a couple of years away, and she had just spent some extra time with Lisa before tucking her in, enjoying her little girl's company more than usual in the face of this blatant reminder that her children were all growing up so quickly.

"Mom!" exclaimed John, while looking uncharacteristically ill at ease.

Chuck, looking even more nervous than the two young boys, said quietly, "I think we'll start without you, but stay within shouting distance just in case."

Sarah turned to mask her amusement and called out as she went, "I'll be in the kitchen."

* * *

About a half hour later, Sarah could hear John's feet pounding up the stairs, and she got up from the kitchen table and the magazine she had been reading as Chuck and CJ came in to join her.

"Coffee?" she inquired of Chuck, who nodded as he pulled out a chair. "Yes, please," he said. "But I think I'm going to take it upstairs, if that's all right. I suspect John needs some company."

"That bad?" Sarah asked while filling the coffee maker with water.

CJ supplied the answer, taking on the mature air that he tended to adopt so often these days. "John was asking about spy stuff, mom. You know, spy seduction stuff."

Sarah's mouth turned into an "O" and her eyebrows raised. She looked at Chuck. "Need my help?" she asked.

"No, I think we'll be all right," he answered in a tone that only served to convey his uncertainty.

"Why don't you go upstairs right away," Sarah suggested. "I'll bring your coffee and some hot chocolate and cookies, all right?"

"Thanks, hon, you're the best," said Chuck, getting up and coming around the table to kiss Sarah on the forehead. "Well, duty calls," he added with a wry look before leaving the kitchen.

CJ sighed dramatically after his father had left and flung his arms out in front of himself on the tabletop so his chin rested on its surface. His eyes began to twinkle as he directed them at Sarah, letting her know he was about to make a joke.

"Where's Uncle Johnny when you need him?" he said, and Sarah laughed at his comical expression.

* * *

After Sarah had delivered a tray of hot drinks and cookies upstairs, she returned to the kitchen, where CJ was still sitting at the table. His question came at her out of left field.

"Mom, how do you know when you're in love?" he asked. He was staring at the tabletop, a frown creasing his face, but when he turned his head towards her, Sarah felt as though her heart were melting at the completely open and unguarded look of trust he directed her way.

Sarah sat down next to him and took his hand.

"Well, son," she began, "it's not always easy to know. First you get a little feeling that there's something different, something exciting, about the person, and you catch yourself watching them more than you watch other people. Then, after some time goes by, you're not only watching them but you start to worry. You may not even know it's love until much later, and by then, you're caring so deeply for that person that the thought they might be hurt or go away is the most devastating thing that could happen in your life. At this point, you'll probably want to wait some more, just to be sure the feeling is really real. Eventually, there's nothing for it and you just have to finally admit your feelings for them no matter what the consequences."

CJ made no reply. It was more than obvious to him that she had been remembering herself with his father, for as Sarah had talked, he saw the emotions she had been speaking of appear and disappear on her face until she ended with an expression so full of peaceful radiance that it spilled from her and washed over him where he sat. After he had watched her for a moment more, he squeezed her hand and said, "Thanks, mom," kissed her on the cheek and left the kitchen in search of his father.

When he arrived upstairs, CJ found Chuck in the little computer alcove off the main hallway booting up their home system.

"John all right?" he asked, but Chuck could see his son hadn't come to him to talk about his twin, so he pulled the extra chair over and patted it.

"John's all right, son. What's on your mind?"

CJ had already decided to ask his father the same question. As he sat down, he repeated, "I was just wondering, dad, how do you know when you're in love?"

Chuck too was initially surprised by this, but when his face took on a wistful look, as though he were gazing through a crystal ball into the past, he began to speak.

"Well, son, you'll know right away. It'll hit you like a ton of bricks. One day you'll be standing there minding your own business, thinking rational thoughts, and boom! You'll get it right between the eyes, and before you even know what's hit you, you're a goner. If it's really bad, you won't be able to eat or sleep or take a shower or do anything without thinking of her, and even if you try to resist, you'll be helpless. No matter how much reason and logic you try to apply to the situation, you'll still turn into a drooling puddle of idiot whenever she's within a hundred yards, and you'll do the most dumbass things to try and impress her and find yourself agreeing to anything just to be near her."

CJ grinned at his father, whose faraway look had turned rather goofy. Since this was the answer he had expected after he had heard Sarah's, he smiled fondly at Chuck, patted his hand, and said, "Thanks, dad, that helps a lot."


	40. The Boys Are All Spies

"Lisa and I are only going to be at Ellie and Devon's for a few days, boys. Your dad will look after you, don't worry."

Sarah hugged and kissed first John and then CJ before turning to Chuck.

"You will be okay, won't you?" she asked, skepticism clear on her face.

"Of course, Sarah. I'm Superdad!"

Chuck bent his elbows and lifted his arms up into the air while doing his best to make his biceps mound up. Ignoring an eye roll from CJ and a snort from John, Chuck continued.

"Besides, Vasily should be arriving soon. I think the four of us will be able to manage okay."

Sarah reached up and hooked an arm around Chuck's neck, pulling his head down to hers for one last goodbye kiss.

"And I expect the house to still be standing when we get back," she whispered seductively into her husband's ear before releasing him and going outside with Lisa.

Following close behind them, Chuck exclaimed, "Sarah! Not in front of the children!" and grinned when she turned her head and threw a withering look over her shoulder at him before getting into the car.

As Sarah made sure that Lisa had securely fastened her seat belt and began to check her own seat belt and the positions of the steering wheel and rear view mirror, Chuck, hands in the back pockets of his jeans, turned to his sons and asked congenially, "Pizza?"

The two boys nodded their heads with enthusiasm, then waved to their mother and sister along with Chuck. Just before she began to back out of the driveway, Sarah paused, lowered her window, and shouted over to Chuck, "And will you please feed them something other than pizza."

Chuck blushed a bit but answered with "Of course, honey," the look on his face conveying that it had been very silly of her to point it out. He hoped that his two smart-aleck sons were bright enough to contain the laughter they were, for the moment, managing to hold back to quiet sputters until their mother had driven out of sight.

* * *

By the time Vasily did arrive, the living room was barely recognizable. Chuck and the boys had slung a blanket from the spare bedroom low between the couch and two strategically placed easy chairs and were practicing crawling on hands and knees, pretending it was actually a laser security net instead of a large piece of red fleece cloth.

"You touched, dad!" yelled John, watching from above to see if the surface of the blanket popped up, a sure sign that security had been breached.

"You're dead, dad," CJ solemnly pronounced from his hands and knees beside Chuck under the blanket.

Chuck let out the breath he had been holding and fell over onto his side, feigning death. He made sure to grab the blanket as he fell, turning it into a makeshift shroud. When John, laughing, crawled underneath the edge, he yelled, "Torture and interrogation!" prompting CJ to join him in attacking Chuck's ribs in a tickle fight.

Chuck, now apparently miraculously resurrected, laughed and squealed along with his sons as he returned their tickles, one arm around each of their kicking and squirming forms.

Suddenly the blanket was lifted away from the happy group and they were confronted by Vasily, who was holding a beautifully ornamented but very nasty looking knife in one hand and a fistful of blanket in the other. The look of surprise on his face was quickly replaced by a broad grin, however, when he recognized the friend and colleague of his daughter and son-in-law and the man's two male children.

"I let myself in when I heard the noise," he explained as the knife disappeared somewhere onto his person so quickly and smoothly that Chuck thought for a moment that he might have imagined it had been there at all.

Chuck released his sons and levered himself up from the floor, smiling all the while as the boys sprang into the air, yelling, "Papa, papa!" and throwing their arms around Vasily's middle.

"Oh, boys, boys, such a nice welcome!" Vasily returned, holding them close and kissing each one on the top of his head. When they finally let go, Chuck had a chance to extend his hand for a shake and was soon pulled into an enthusiastic hug of his own as the older man exclaimed, "Come, come, son, we are already like family, no?"

Chuck flushed at the unexpected pleasure he felt at this declaration and replied, "Yes, Vasily, of course, and this is your home as long as you want it to be. Are you hungry? We were just about to have some supper. After we infiltrated enemy headquarters, of course."

Grinning as he released Vasily and heard the man's amused chuckle, Chuck turned to lead him into the kitchen.

"Do you have any luggage?" Chuck inquired, and when the new member of the Bartowski household responded that there was a small holdall on the front porch, John and CJ jostled each other in a race to get to it first and bring it in.

"It is so generous of you to have me in your house," said Vasily as he settled himself at the kitchen table and watched Chuck pull pizza dough and topping ingredients out of the refrigerator.

"Not at all," Chuck replied. "You can see how much the twins want you here and so do Sarah and I. The children didn't get a chance to know their grandparents, you see, either side, so I'm afraid having you here is not as unselfish as it seems."

Vasily's eyes narrowed a bit as he watched old emotions run over Chuck's open expression. "And I think you wouldn't mind having a papa for a while too, no?" he asked, his voice soft and gentle.

Chuck turned his head sharply towards the old Russian. "No, I wouldn't mind," he echoed just as softly, and the two men smiled at one another as the boys ran noisily into the kitchen to take their places at the table after carrying Vasily's bag to the spare bedroom in the basement.

"Ah, boys, let's wash our hands before we eat. Just because there are no women around, it does not mean we have to be uncivilized, yes?" Vasily declared, letting John and CJ lead him to the nearby powder room, holding a smooth, young hand in each of his leathery but still strong ones.

* * *

John and CJ had finally gone to bed after Vasily had promised to show them how to handle a large knife such as his and had sat between their beds, telling them a scary story about a British double agent and the KGB, about half of which Chuck figured was fabricated on the spot for its ability to scare the boys and make them huddle a little more deeply under the covers, eyes wide and unblinking as they listened, captivated, right until the very end.

When the two men had turned out the light and gone back downstairs, settling in the large easy chairs in the living room, each with a cup of strong, dark coffee that Chuck had made from beans that Vasily had brought with him, Chuck observed that the children hadn't made a sound since they had said their final goodnights.

"They usually bounce around a bit more before going to sleep or try to read with a flashlight," Chuck said, looking at the ceiling.

"I am the master of the scary papa story," Vasily explained, chuckling. "An old tradition passed on from generation to generation. It will be your turn before you know it, Chuck."

At the wistful and faraway tone, Chuck looked penetratingly at the old man.

"You must have been away from your family a lot, Vasily, like my dad was. I've been lucky. Sarah and I can be spies and have a family too. I blamed my father for many years because he wasn't there for me and my sister. It took me a long time to understand just what he gave up for what he believed in. I don't think I fully understood until I held those two upstairs in my arms for the first time."

Chuck paused and looked at Vasily's sad expression, tinged with regret, then he reinforced what he had said earlier that evening in the kitchen.

"I wouldn't mind having you as my papa, Vasily. Not one bit."


	41. Back to the Suburbs

When Casey and Ilsa returned from their honeymoon, they carried their luggage from the taxi to their house and deposited it just inside the front hallway before heading directly over to Chuck and Sarah's house. As much as they had enjoyed their time alone together in a tropical paradise, they were both eager to get back to the little slice of suburbia they now called home.

Once they had come back down the front stairs, Ilsa hurried ahead of Casey and had already slipped the lock on the front door of their neighbors' house by the time he caught up to her.

"Do you think papa will be here?" she inquired, but Casey wasn't given a chance to speculate before his wife had disappeared through the doorway and into the living room.

A moment later, the NSA agent was not surprised when he heard cries of, "Ilsa!" and "Aunt Ilsa!" in several different voices, and he easily identified those of Chuck, Sarah, Vasily, and the four children – CJ, John, Lisa, and Gaby – along with another young female voice that added, "John, is that your real aunt?" And when Casey came around the corner and into the room, he was met with a rousing chorus consisting of, variously, "Casey!" "Uncle Johnny!" and, from Vasily, "Son!" This last appellation, much to Casey's surprise, gave him an emotional jolt that he figured must be what people called "heartwarming," and Casey made his way quickly over to Ilsa, who was wrapped up in her father's arms. The tall man enveloped the two of them in his own large embrace and held the pair as tightly as he could without actually injuring them.

When he noticed, however, that Vasily seemed to be choking up a bit, Casey eased off on his hug and, face full of concern, inquired, "Papa, are you all right?"

Vasily's breath hitched slightly in his throat before he answered.

"I'm fine, son. Don't pay any attention to a sentimental old man."

Casey chuckled, and as Ilsa released her hold on her father, the agent drew Vasily into his embrace once again, speaking low so only his father-in-law could hear him.

"Papa, not too long ago, I wouldn't have understood your emotion, but now I'm discovering so many new things about life that I wouldn't have thought possible. I hope you'll stick around for a long time to help us grow into a real family."

By this time, Vasily could barely speak, and as he turned his gaze to his daughter, the tears now running freely down his face, Ilsa exclaimed, "Casey, what have you done to my papa?!"

* * *

Once Ilsa was reassured that her father's tears had been the result of an overflow of joy, the happy reunion began in earnest. In the midst of several spirited conversations, Casey felt a tug at his sleeve. He looked down to see a rather nervous John standing with a girl at his side.

"Uncle Johnny, I'd like you to meet Sabrina. Sabrina, this is my Uncle Johnny. You know, my Sensei."

The girl, who had short red hair and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks, solemnly extended her hand to Casey. "Agent," she said formally as she waited for Casey to transfer his drink to his left hand so he could take hers and pump it gently a couple of times. "John says you're the best trainer there is, and it must be true. He has lots of muscles in his arms."

As she said this, Sabrina, still shaking Casey's hand, turned her head to look at John, whose cheeks had turned a bit pink. Before Casey could stop himself, his laughter boomed out across the whole room at John's uncharacteristic modesty, which caused the object of Casey's amusement to quickly turn and flee the room, mortified that Sabrina had announced something so personal to his Uncle Johnny.

As John rounded the corner of the living room door and headed up the stairs to his and CJ's bedroom at a dead run, one part of his brain was telling him that he was being stupid and should turn around and go back, face up to his embarrassment like a man. The other part of his brain, however, was in shock that a girl – and particularly one that he liked – would say something so, well, physical to other people. No, not other people, even. His family. He'd be teased for sure.

Then there was another part of his brain that wondered how he would have felt if Sabrina had mentioned this thing about noticing his muscles when they were alone together. Maybe that would have been okay. Maybe then she would have agreed to kiss him since she seemed to admire him so much. Her big, grown up – okay, growing up – strong, muscly man. All right, then, boy. Boyfriend?

All these jumbled musings fled from John's head a moment later when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Uncle Johnny's head appeared in the doorway.

"Can I come in, John?" he asked, his tone gentle and apologetic.

"Yes, Uncle Johnny," John replied, then sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sorry for running off like that. I panicked."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing, John," Casey said, sitting down beside his namesake. "I shouldn't have laughed like that and I'm sorry. I guess it just reminded me of all the times that girls said things that embarrassed me. Does it help if I tell you I wasn't laughing at you but at myself since I could tell exactly what you were feeling?"

"Kinda," John replied in a very unconvincing tone. His hangdog expression suddenly changed to one of wonder. "Girls said things that embarrassed you too, Uncle Johnny?"

"Girls, women, mothers, grandmothers, you name it," Casey listed in a matter-of-fact tone. "I think women don't understand how fragile men's egos are sometimes."

Shifting slightly to one side, Casey peered into John's face, which had returned to its normal coloring. Continuing, he added, "So if you were trying to play it cool with Sabrina, I think you just blew it, champ. Let's see if we can go back downstairs and fix things, okay?"

Casey had to suppress a grin as a clear look of terror flitted over John's face, but after a moment, the boy had control of himself again and slid off the side of the bed to stand in front of Casey. Steadying himself with one hand on Casey's knee so he could collect his nerve, John, still looking a bit frightened, asked, "Uncle Johnny, do girls ever get any easier to figure out?"

Casey placed his large hand over top of John's smaller one and looked seriously at the young man standing in front of him. "Not really," he answered. "But you should never give up trying, John."


	42. Gaby's Photo Album

John figured everything was going really well now. When he and Uncle Johnny had returned downstairs, Casey had quietly called Sabrina into the hallway and then left the pair there to talk.

"Um, Sabrina," John began, feeling a bit nervous again.

When she reached out, took hold of his hand and looked at him encouragingly, he felt confident enough to continue.

"Sabrina," he said in a rush, "I'm sorry I ran away and I hope you don't think I'm a doofus or anything, but it's just that –"

"It's okay, John. I thought it was kind of cute. And you do have big muscles."

As she was saying this, Sabrina let go of John's hand and transferred her fingers to his left biceps, giving it a good squeeze. Unfortunately, since he hadn't had any warning, John had no chance to flex, and he winced a bit as the limp muscle in his arm was compressed. Turning his head towards the sharp pain, he completely missed the fact that Sabrina had moved her face in close to his, and by the time he felt her lips slide over his and land on his cheek, he turned back, but she had already withdrawn her head and let go of his arm.

As she spun to return to the living room, John called out, "Sabrina, wait!" but it was already too late. She was around the corner and out of sight quick as a wink. And when John followed her, he arrived in time to hear Sabrina inquire of Lisa, "Where's CJ?" which seemed an innocent enough question at first.

It was when Lisa answered, "I don't know, somewhere with Gaby, I guess," and shot a worried glance at Sarah that was immediately returned by his mother that John started to feel a nagging stab of dread in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

CJ and Gaby had in fact gone off together and were sitting at CJ's desk in his bedroom with Gaby's prized photo album placed in front of them. With one hand on the book to keep it closed, Gaby turned her face to CJ, and when her lip started to tremble slightly, he put his arms around her tense shoulders and laid the side of her head near the base of his neck. He began to rub her back in the middle of her shoulder blades while murmuring, "Hey, it's okay, Gaby, shhh, shhh," just the way his mother would have comforted him.

After drawing in one loud sniff close to CJ's ear, Gaby was able to collect herself enough to pull away from his embrace and begin to speak.

"This is the thing I hold most precious, CJ. Do you remember?" she said, referring to the little ceremony the children had engaged in when they had visited the beach with the Bartowski-Woodcombs.

CJ nodded. "Uh-huh," he replied and resisted the urge to hold Gaby again right away. He seemed to know by instinct that letting her go at her own pace was the right thing to do in the circumstances, and so he decided to let her do most of the talking until he could see where this was going.

"I had a little brother, CJ. His name was Jean-Michel."

As she spoke, Gaby flipped the first page of the book over, revealing a snapshot taken in the hospital of a newborn baby. If anyone had asked CJ's opinion, he would have said it looked a little too red and squished and pointy headed, but that's kind of what Lisa had looked like when she was first born, so he figured this was probably normal.

Flipping a few more pages, Gaby began to smile as she told CJ how her little brother had come home and mostly just ate and slept at first, how she had been allowed to play with him when he was awake – even though he didn't do much more than look around a bit and burp up his milk – and how her parents had to stay up most nights and take turns looking after him when he cried almost non-stop.

She explained how she thought at first that he was a live doll that her _maman_ and _père_ had gotten for her and how unsatisfied she had been with the plastic doll and dresses that they had bought for her when she couldn't seem to leave her brother in peace for more than a few minutes.

Then, after several pages of pictures showing the baby crying or sleeping or in the arms of his parents and even one where Gaby was holding him, she turned to a page that held a piece of white card stock with black edging surrounding elaborate French script.

"He died one day," Gaby said sadly, raising her large, damp eyes to CJ's. "Nobody knows why exactly. They just said he wasn't growing properly. He was so little. And these are all the pictures I have of him."

CJ didn't have to move towards Gaby because she was already in his arms again crying softly into his shoulder. And CJ was crying too, sorry that Gaby had had to deal with such a tragedy in her young life and hurt by the sudden thought of how it would feel for him if Lisa or John had died the way Jean-Michel had.

After about a minute, Gaby sniffled and raised her head from CJ's shoulder, an angelic smile on her lips as she said, "It hurts to remember but it also makes me happy to remember, so don't feel sorry for me or my parents. I had a little brother, even if it was for a short time. So that's good."

CJ wiped a tear that was running down his cheek with his sleeve and sniffed a bit as well as he looked at Gaby's wistful expression, tracks from tears on her face, her wet eyes alight with fond memories, and he leaned forwards on an impulse and gently laid his lips over hers. Gaby didn't pull away but pressed her mouth to CJ's firmly and relaxed into his arms. Just as CJ thought he might pass out from the rush of feeling, Gaby stiffened up and jumped back at a cry of "CJ!" from Sabrina, who was standing in the doorway with a very confused and wounded-looking John close behind her.

* * *

John was determined he wasn't going to run away this time. Sure, it was embarrassing, but this was his family, after all. They would back him up and support him all the way. The irony in his thoughts was not lost on John as, not more than an hour earlier, he had been worried that his family would tease him and have a laugh at his expense. But he knew better now.

Sarah had just left to drive Sabrina home and everyone had gathered once again in the living room to show solidarity for their ill-treated family member.

"When did you know?" John asked Lisa quietly as they sat side-by-side on the couch.

"Even before she came here today," Lisa replied. "At school. She'd been asking around, wondering how close CJ and Gaby were."

"So she only pretended to like me to get nearer to CJ?" John asked, still hoping that the answer might be no and that he could erase the unsettling events of the recent past.

"It looks that way, John," Lisa answered solemnly, and she took her brother's hand and rested her head on his shoulder. "But don't give up. There's a girl out there for you somewhere."

"Yeah, but where?" John asked rhetorically and kissed Lisa on the top of her head.

* * *

_maman_ and _père_ – mother and father


	43. Future Perfect

Sarah, one hand on the door frame, poked her head into the kitchen and announced cheerily, "Okay, kids, you can come in now!"

John ran a finger nervously under his shirt collar and tie when he detected a note in his mother's voice that told him she wasn't as confident as she was trying to let on, and when he darted his eyes around the table to take in the apprehensive expressions of Lisa, CJ and Gaby, he knew that they had sensed it too.

The four children slipped silently from their chairs and followed Sarah glumly into the front sitting room, and when Sarah took the last available chair beside Chuck, they were forced to stand before those already assembled there in a line like a row of guilty criminals, albeit criminals dressed in their best clothes.

The adults in the room were also sporting unaccustomed finery, and the children's eyes widened when they raised wary expressions from the floorboards to see, front and center in the group, General Beckman – or Auntie Diane, as they knew her – in full uniform, looking composed and a little stern. To her left sat Roan Montgomery, AKA Uncle Roan, impeccably turned out, as usual, in a three-piece tailored suit.

The rest of the adults, including Ilsa, Vasily Trinchina, and Gilles and Mariette Charbonneau, Chuck and Sarah – the women wearing dresses and jewelry, the men wearing suits and ties – were sitting either singly in chairs or arrayed on couches, the couples holding hands and biting lower lips as they shifted around nervously or, as in the case of Papa Vasily, wringing his hands in front of himself while trying to hide it from the children's view.

The only one who was sitting still in his place was Uncle Johnny, and the children couldn't help but gasp with admiring expressions at what they were seeing. Uncle Johnny was on the couch beside Ilsa as straight as an oak and looking very handsome in full uniform. He was trying to school his features into a soldier-like neutrality, but the effect was ruined when he couldn't prevent the outside corners of his mouth from turning up just a tiny bit or the twinkle in his eyes from being seen by those across the room.

General Beckman caught the children's attention by shifting slightly on her chair and clearing her throat. Startled, and more than a little terrified, they whipped their heads around to focus on her. When CJ noticed out of the corner of his eye that Gaby, who was standing beside him, began dropping automatically into a neat curtsey, he reached out and placed his hand on her arm to stop her, and she straightened up once more, clasping her hands behind her back so no one could see them shake.

Gaby's parents, who were sitting near the back of the group, smiled encouragingly at their daughter, then at Chuck and Sarah, whose expressions had also changed from wariness to pride upon seeing their children so smartly turned out and on their best behavior.

"Shall we begin?" queried General Beckman, and, not waiting for a reply to her rhetorical question, she commenced her introductory remarks.

"This is a confidential meeting and anything you hear during it must be kept in the strictest confidence within this group unless you are notified otherwise by me or someone else with similar authority."

After fixing each child in turn with a hard look and receiving their nods or murmured, "Yes, ma'am's," she continued.

"Charles Irving Bartowski, Jr., John Alan Bartowski, Lisa Anne Bartowski, Gabrielle Antoinette Charbonneau, as you can see from the formality of our little gathering today, something important is about to happen. Just how it affects you all from today onwards is something that is of great interest to the adults here present, and since we all are, in one way or another, members of an extended family, I thought it would be better to have this meeting here in familiar surroundings than at NSA Headquarters."

Then the general did something that was rarely seen. She smiled.

"Bartowski children," she continued, "Roan Montgomery and I have known your mother and father for a long time now and your Uncle Johnny for even longer. The others, we've only met relatively recently – Ilsa and Vasily Trinchina, Gilles and Mariette Charbonneau, and of course their daughter Gaby – and what I've always been certain of is the integrity of each of you as individuals and the love and support you extend to each other as a group."

After this somewhat long speech, the general paused and took a sip from a glass of water that was on a table nearby, allowing all of the people in the room a moment to acknowledge among themselves by smiling glances and hand squeezes the truth of what they had just heard.

"So now let's get to the reason why I called us all together so we can adjourn to the barbeque that Ilsa, Vasily and Casey prepared for this afternoon as a surprise celebration."

"Hear, hear," called out Uncle Roan, raising his empty hand into the air, his fingers shaped as though they held a full martini glass, and the laughter his gesture evoked served to diffuse the last bits of tension in the room.

"Some of you know about some of the matters I will address shortly but no one person knows about everything, so I hope you will all be pleasantly surprised in one way or another," said Auntie Diane, traces of her previous smile still evident around her mouth.

"The first item of business," she said, turning her head around so she could look at Ilsa and Casey where they were seated on the sofa, "is that Ilsa Faina Casey has accepted an assignment for field work with what has become fondly known as Team Bartowski, which assignment will take effect immediately. Welcome to the team, Agent Casey."

After the applause and a few cheers had died down, the general moved on to the next item on her agenda.

"Charles Irving Bartowski, Sr., will also resume field duties in the near future as part of Team Bartowski. This is at his own request, having tolerated far too many years behind a desk. And he doesn't have to stay in the car this time."

During a scattering of laughter at this joke and an enthusiastic "Way to go, dad!" from John, Chuck pulled Sarah to him and they kissed briefly, their love and respect for each other spilling out over the whole room.

"And now for the final two pieces of business," said the general, turning again to the children, whose faces were wreathed with smiles. "Before we could allow the Mobile Intersect to do field work once more and thereby put his valuable database in physical danger, we had to be sure we had a secure backup, and though there are data repositories that can hold the quantity of intelligence we have and are adding to all the time, the problem has always been quick and accurate analysis of that data. To that end, we began to test Lisa when she showed a certain level of intelligence and aptitude that seemed to indicate she might be a good candidate for the job."

CJ, John and Gaby turned their heads as one to look at Lisa, their mouths open in awe at this news. Lisa, for her part, was wearing a very smug look for an eight year old and beamed a broad smile to all those present.

"Ladies and gentlemen, young ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present to you Lisa Anne Bartowski, Mobile Intersect Mark II."

The adults began to applaud loudly as Lisa was mobbed by the other children, who had forgotten in their excitement that this was a somewhat formal meeting and were crushing her with hugs and peppering her with questions.

"When did you go?" asked CJ, "Was it that week when you and mom were in Washington?" to which she nodded in the affirmative.

John's contribution was, "Have you flashed yet? What's it like? What's my final mark for Remote Surveillance?"

Gaby merely reached out and hugged her friend, exclaiming, "Oh, Lisa, you're a real spy now!"

The general captured their attention once more by the expedient of rapping sharply on the small table beside her with her knuckles, and when everyone was quiet once more, she made her last announcement.

"Children, as you know, by the coming fall, you will all, except for Lisa, be twelve years old. What you don't know is that the results of the last series of tests that you just completed at school were forwarded, along with those of your classmates, to Washington."

With an uncharacteristic flair for the dramatic, the general paused in her speech. Everyone else in the room held their breaths waiting to hear this last bit of news, except for Roan, who already knew what was coming. He merely smiled from ear to ear at the four young people in front of him.

"Children, all four of you have been accepted into a special and very elite CIA young agent training school in Washington, D.C., which commences in September."


	44. A Mother's Burden

When Sarah dropped the slender lock picks the third time, Ilsa, who was standing over the hunched figure of her team member and keeping watch in both directions in the office building corridor, gently reached down and took them from her hands, indicating with a jerk of her head that they should change positions. Just as she had crouched down and reinserted the implement, her earwig crackled to life transmitting the gruff voice of her beloved husband.

"We haven't got all day, ladies. What's the holdup?"

Ilsa smiled to herself when a second voice broke in and said, "Now, don't listen to him. He's just Mr. Grumpypants today. You two take as long as you need."

By the time Casey's voice was cut off in the middle of his reply, which began, "Look here, Bartowski, I'm the leader of this mission and –" Ilsa was smiling outright, and she stood and clicked open the door to the office of the president of the import/export company she and Sarah had infiltrated a week earlier as temporary secretaries.

After she had reached around and opened the door's locking mechanism, Ilsa pulled the door towards herself to close it again and turned to face Sarah, who had said nothing while all this transpired. Once she could hear that the comm. system had been switched on again, Ilsa told the men that the door was open, and she and Sarah began to walk down the hallway towards the bank of elevators, leaving the men to finish the job of searching the office and gathering intel using Chuck's uncanny ability to flash on and record anything they needed into his brain.

"Let's get out of here, Sarah," Ilsa said, steering her friend along by an elbow. "Then we can go home and you can tell me what's bothering you."

"There's nothing bothering me," Sarah replied defensively, pulling her arm away under the pretext of reaching out to push the elevator's call button.

Ilsa looked at the blonde woman's face when she had turned around again. She didn't betray any reaction through her facial expression when she spotted the wet sheen on Sarah's eyeballs and turned her gaze away and pretended not to notice when Sarah sniffed and dabbed surreptitiously at the edge of her right eye.

"Well," Ilsa said, tipping her head upwards to look at the floor number indicator as the elevator approached, "I need a drink and some company anyway, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me. And when our handfuls of husbands come home, we can tell them how clever and handsome we think they are."

* * *

As it turned out, by the time Ilsa and Sarah had settled down and drank their first appletinis, their husbands had completed the mission, returned home, and changed out of their maintenance man disguises in the secret room in the basement, so Ilsa wasn't able to find out what had been upsetting Sarah earlier that day.

And by the time Sarah had three drinks under her belt, even she had forgotten her malaise and was laughing – perhaps a bit too readily and a bit too loudly – at Chuck's jokes and repartee. Ilsa watched her friend and wondered but was content to let the matter slide rather than alarm the men, who were busy keeping Sarah's glass full and watching the effects.

The adults didn't notice, but there was someone else watching too.

* * *

"You have to," Lisa declared, her arms crossed over her chest as she laid down the law to her twin brothers.

"But we're too old, Lisa," CJ explained, pausing in his drawing and lifting his face up to look at his sister.

"And we're guys," added John as he kept his attention fixed on the portable game he was playing.

Lisa moved quickly and decisively. First, she stalked over to John and grabbed his left ear, pulled him out of his chair, and dragged him, bent over and yelling, to their brother's side, where she managed to capture CJ's right ear in her other hand and pulled him up too. Walking them both over to CJ's bed, she released them and ordered, "Sit!"

The two boys looked at their younger and much smaller sister with a combination of amazement and fear and rubbed their ears while they waited for her to speak.

"Mom is hurting," she began by way of explanation. "She needs us and she needs us now. You can pretend to be all grown up when we're at school, but in the meantime, we're all her little babies."

Lisa paused for a moment and glared at her brothers.

"What are we?" she asked in a stern voice, like a drill sergeant.

"Babies," CJ and John chorused sullenly, still rubbing their ears.

"And what are we going to do?"

"Let mom hug us and kiss us and stuff," replied John first.

CJ followed up with, "And give her hugs and kisses and do stuff for her before she asks."

"Good. Now, get started, you two. She's in the living room."

* * *

Sarah was sitting on the couch in the living room by herself. Ilsa and Casey had gone home and Chuck was downstairs going over some supplies they had ordered from the CIA that they were going to need for a mission in a couple of days' time. Her drinks had worn off and she was beginning to feel even worse than she had when it had hit her a couple of days ago: Her children were all leaving in September to go to school in Washington.

It was hard to believe that she was feeling this lost. How many times had she shaken her head at John's antics and wished he would grow up? And how many times had she felt so proud of CJ and Lisa for being so mature for their ages? She even felt a bit bereft at the thought that Gaby was going too. The girl had become a fixture in the house, and if nothing else had clued Sarah in to the fact that time was marching on, the appearance of a steady girlfriend for CJ was clear evidence that her children were growing up and getting ready to leave the nest.

And they had been such wonderful babies! Well, okay, two at the same time for parents who had never been parents before was a little rough at first, but with Chuck's help – and he really had been a help – Sarah had gotten the hang of caring for two new lives. Once Lisa came along, one infant at a time was a snap, and Sarah could still remember what it was like to hold them all and feed them and change them, tuck them into bed and tend to their scrapes and bruises, make sure they got enough fresh air and exercise and lovingly guide them on the way to becoming responsible and civil young people who would turn into responsible and civil adults.

Just like they were doing now.

Sarah felt a splash of something warm and wet on the back of her hand and was surprised, because she wasn't crying, was she? Deciding that if she really was crying she had let this all go a bit too far, she wiped her eyes with her fingers and cleared her throat in preparation for standing up and finding something else to occupy her mind when all of a sudden her lap was filled with little girl and there were four arms around her neck, two from each side, and two voices whispering in her ears.

In her left ear, she heard, "We love you, momma," and into her right ear came the words, "We'll always love you, momma."

Sarah was rendered completely speechless when she realized she had been mobbed by her sons and daughter but she soon relaxed into their embraces and kisses, laughing at the pure joy of it.

"I love you too, kids," Sarah managed to gasp, and she circled them with her own arms and squeezed them tightly, her eyes just as tightly shut. The tears that now leaked out from under her lids were tears of happiness and contentment, and when she opened her eyes again, wet and glistening, and turned her head towards the doorway, she directed a happy smile at Chuck, who, without a word, came over to his family, went down on one knee, and added his own hug to encircle those he loved best.


	45. The Littlest Woodtowski

"Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!"

Chuck sprinted into the house, calling out at the top of his lungs.

"Chuck, what is it?!" Sarah asked, alarmed by the tone of urgency in his voice as she ran from the kitchen to the foyer.

"The kids, the kids, the kids!" he replied in the same tone, turning to lurch headlong up the stairs three at a time in search of his children.

"Chuck, what is it?!" Sarah repeated fruitlessly. Her husband was already out of sight.

When he appeared again at the top of the stairs he had CJ, John and Lisa in tow, each with an overnight bag, and Chuck himself carried his and Sarah's emergency overnight bags, the ones that they always had on the ready in case they need to do a quick bug-out.

Their thundering footsteps as the four ran down the stairs, along with Flash's enthusiastic barking, was enough to give Sarah a headache. That plus the fact that she still didn't know what was happening. Sarah had never liked to be left out of any loop.

She planted her feet and bent her elbows, jamming her fists on her hips – looking very much like little Lisa as she did so – and yelled out at a spine-crumbling volume, "Charles Irving Bartowski, Sr., _WHAT IS HAPPENING?!_"

Chuck and the children stopped suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, bumping into each other and jostling a bit to stay on their feet, and directed owlish eyes towards the blonde dynamo blocking their path.

When the three children had turned their eyes up to their father, awaiting his answer, he supplied it in a quiet and reasonable tone, as if they all should have known already.

"Why, Ellie's having her baby."

And when Sarah's jaw dropped open and the children seemed paralyzed and rooted to their spots in shock, Chuck, sauntering over to the door, turned back to the stunned group and said, "Well, are you coming?"

* * *

"Devon, should it be taking this long?" Chuck asked, his face creased with worry.

Devon had come out of the delivery room to grab a quick sandwich and update Chuck and Sarah, who had been waiting anxiously to hear some news since they had arrived an hour and a half earlier. He looked as though he was trying to decide what to tell Chuck as he dropped some coins into a vending machine in the waiting area and retrieved a ham and cheese on rye from the slot below.

"It's taking longer than I'd like, certainly," he said, trying to maintain his comforting physician's demeanor for Chuck and Sarah's benefit, "but she's not in any real danger. It's a contingency her OBGYN prepared for and I guess now we'll all just have to wait it out."

He unwrapped a corner of the sandwich and took a bite, chewing it slowly and swallowing before adding, "I just hope the baby is born soon. Ellie's getting really tired."

With that, he heaved a sigh, patted Sarah reassuringly on the shoulder and turned to go back into the delivery room. Before the door swung shut, Chuck was just able to get a glimpse of his sister, apparently between contractions, propped up in a birthing chair and looking limp and pale, almost as if she was about to breathe her last.

* * *

The five cousins and one Jack Russell terrier were sitting in the basement rec room of the Woodcomb household, each quietly occupied with their own interests. Except John, who was not generally in the habit of being quietly occupied at anything.

"So how long do these things usually take?" he inquired impatiently to the room at large from where he was bouncing around restlessly on the long couch.

"They take as long as they take," Marianne replied coolly as she flipped through her magazine.

"That's no answer," was John's annoyed comeback, but when it was apparent that he was not going to be able to upset his unflappable female cousin, he decided to try needling his male cousin, Eddie.

"So, Eddie, a new baby. I bet you'll be on diaper duty before you know it."

"Doesn't bother me," Eddie replied from his perch in front of the family computer. "Dad made us do some volunteer work helping out at a temporary residence for homeless families. There were lots of little kids there."

"He's quite good at it, actually," supplied Marianne, who beamed approvingly at her younger brother. "Mom'll be lucky to have him around."

CJ shot Lisa a glance that she returned when, instead of coming up with a retort, John scowled and folded his arms tightly around his chest in indignation. They could both tell that their brother would take this as a challenge, and they shared a private laugh between themselves as images of John pinching his nose closed with one hand while trying to corral a squalling baby with the other sprang to their minds, compete with a crowning halo of baby powder cloud wreathing the blond boy's head.

* * *

It was two hours later when Chuck and Sarah heard a thin wail of protest coming from the delivery room. They looked at one another through weary eyes and smiled, an automatic reaction to a sound that seemed to echo from the past to their waiting ears.

Without speaking, Chuck stood and offered his hand to his wife, and when Sarah grasped it in hers and stood to take her place beside him, he could see that, although she appeared happy and excited for the most part, a flicker of envy and longing passed over her expression. He could also sense that she knew he had seen.

"We'll talk later, okay?" Chuck said, smiling tenderly and squeezing Sarah's hand with affection, and she nodded to him mutely before they turned as one to face the double doors to await the re-appearance of Captain Awesome. When the doors swung open a few minutes later, Devon gestured to them through the opening and they entered to greet their new relative.

"Ellie, you clever girl," Sarah exclaimed, bending over to kiss the exhausted woman's flushed forehead before turning to gaze at the splotchy, wrinkled face of the baby bundled in her sister-in-law's arms.

Chuck likewise stooped to kiss Ellie's cheek and took her free hand in his, smiling and saying, "Ellie, it's – he's – she's – um..."

Ellie called up enough remaining energy to smile at her brother's familiar charming awkwardness and whispered in a barely audible voice, "She."

Then after pausing for a moment, she continued, "Chuck, Sarah, I'd like you to meet your new niece Alison Elisabeth Woodcomb."

Sarah was still looking fondly at the infant, completely mesmerized, and Chuck took the opportunity to inquire about Ellie's state of health via facial expression to his brother-in-law.

First, he tipped his head slightly in his sister's direction, then turned his face to Devon and raised his eyebrows, freezing them there to await an answer. Devon, in his turn, answered in the same way, relaxing his face into a smile, closing his eyes and nodding his head, and when he opened his eyes again, snapped his neck to one side towards the door to indicate to Chuck that he and Sarah should leave and give Ellie a chance to rest.

Chuck understood right away, but since his usually perceptive wife was completely absorbed by the new baby and mother, he finally resorted to walking around the bed and semi-dragging Sarah out of the room as she waved and called out her good-byes over her shoulder.


	46. Boys and Girls

Gaby was completely fascinated. She watched, wide-eyed, as CJ, her quiet, gentle boyfriend who rarely spoke above a low tone, shouted at the top of his lungs to his twin brother John to throw the freakin' Frisbee already and stop being such a dickwad.

This unusual behavior, and particularly the unaccustomed vocabulary, was just too much for the sheltered young girl, and although she knew CJ wasn't exactly swearing, she was still shocked enough to turn a bright pink and direct her gaze to the ground, effectively hiding her face from view.

"Seems out of character, doesn't it?" observed Lisa as she sat down on the bench beside her friend in the neighborhood park. "He does this sometimes just to let off some energy," she continued in explanation.

Lisa moved closer to Gaby and grasped the older girl's hand, and when Gaby had recovered her composure, she looked at the small girl whose long, straight blonde hair – hair that looked exactly like her mother's – reflected the afternoon sun that turned it into spun gold.

"I think it's boy hormones, mostly. They can't help it."

Lisa delivered this last analysis in a conspiratorial whisper that prompted Gaby to cover her mouth and stifle a giggle that threatened to turn into a very unladylike guffaw.

By this time, John and CJ had forgotten about their Frisbee, which was lying on the grass about five feet away, and were engaging in a roughhouse tumble, grasping and breaking holds and capturing each other between their feet and knees as they rolled and grunted in the grass.

A momentary pause to allow them to catch their breaths gave CJ the opportunity to glance over at the two giggling girls, and when he turned back to re-engage his brother in their play-fighting, he asked, "Why do girls always whisper and giggle like that?"

"Girl hormones," replied John sagely before encircling CJ's neck in a mock choke hold.

* * *

The children had all played a bit more together, tossing the Frisbee to each other and turning cartwheels and somersaults, running around and laughing together until they were all exhausted and panting from their exertions. They didn't want to go home just yet, however, because they were all aware – even though nobody had spoken of it out loud – that this was probably one of the last times they would have a chance to play in the park like this in the place that had been their home for all of their lives.

They sat in a circle on the grass quietly chatting and looking around themselves occasionally as if to each take a mental photograph of the peaceful scene. There were other children playing nearby and families had gathered to enjoy the good weather. People were walking dogs and riding bicycles, roller-blading along a nearby path, walking and jogging for exercise or just to enjoy the outdoors.

Lisa turned her head towards the path and saw a man approaching. She only thought it slightly odd that he was wearing a long coat that was buttoned up to his neck and a hat that was pulled down over his forehead to conceal his face. After all, not everybody appreciates the outdoors, but it was his nervous manner that made her look a little more closely.

He was darting quick glances back over his shoulder as he hurried along, seemingly oblivious to the alarmed yells from cyclists and skaters as they swerved to avoid him. It was obvious to Lisa the more she observed him that he was afraid of being followed and afraid of being noticed. Well, he didn't exactly blend in with the public park crowd, and the girl began to wonder just what could have flushed him out into the open if he truly was trying to avoid someone when he passed by their little group and turned his face in her direction, staring right at her for a moment as he hurried by.

When the mysterious man's eyes made contact with hers, Lisa's flew wide open in shock and then fluttered half-shut. Her eyeballs rolled up into her head and her neck began to jerk a bit as her body convulsed two or three times. Falling backwards to the ground, she missed hitting her head on the hard earth only because of CJ's quick reflexes that had prompted him to dive underneath his sister onto his back, and he let out a whoosh of air as her head and shoulders thumped onto his waiting stomach.

Lisa's episode was over in less than a minute, but that was still long enough to drive the other three children nearly frantic with worry. When she turned tear-filled eyes towards them and whispered, "It was just a flash," they were somewhat relieved, but then the dam broke and Lisa began to cry in earnest, calling out, "Daddy, daddy, it's so awful!" as she hurled herself into CJ's arms and clung to his neck sobbing.

John had the presence of mind to take charge of the situation, and he placed a firm hand on Gaby's arm while instructing, "Run ahead to the house and we'll bring her."

Gaby nodded once in acknowledgement and jumped up to sprint away like an Olympic runner in a quest for the gold medal.

Supporting Lisa and encouraging her to stand, the boys made a carrying seat the way they had learned in First Aid class by grasping first their own wrists with one hand and then the other's wrist to create a small square platform. As soon as Lisa was sitting and had a secure hold with her arms wrapped around their necks, they took off at a smooth, coordinated trot, trying their best not to jolt their little sister.

In the meantime, Gaby had reached Casey and Ilsa's house where she found Casey outside raking the lawn.

"Uncle Johnny!" she called out, gasping for breath, "Come quickly! It's Lisa!"

Casey reacted in an instant. He dropped the rake and broke into a powerful run in the direction that Gaby had just come from, at the same time raising his wristwatch to his mouth and barking into it, "Chuck, Sarah! Meet me at your house! It's Lisa!"

When Casey saw CJ and John down the street carrying Lisa towards him, he sped up a bit more to close the distance between them, and when he reached the children, scooped the still-weeping girl up into his arms as she transferred her grip to the big man's neck and buried her wet face in his shoulder.

After telling Lisa that her momma and daddy were on their way and would meet them at the house, Casey began to re-trace his steps, a little more slowly when he realized that Lisa was beginning to recover from whatever had traumatized her, and he murmured into her ear, as much for his own benefit as for hers, "Everything's going to be okay, my little baby. Uncle Johnny's here now."

And for the first time in a long while, Lisa didn't mind that her Uncle Johnny had called her his little baby.


	47. Men and Women

Once Casey tucked Lisa in her bed she calmed a bit more, and he stayed with her until Chuck and Sarah arrived, smoothing the hair away from her face and drying her tears with a tissue.

He could hear the squeal of brakes and the slam of the car's doors and stood to make way for the two agents, but he couldn't move away very far as Lisa refused to let go of his hand until her parents had actually burst into the room and hurried to her side.

She let out another piteous wail of, "Daddy!" and began to cry again, clinging to Chuck's neck when he bent to hold her, and the three adults waited helplessly until Lisa had spent herself once more and Chuck could lay her back limply on the pillows and encourage her to take a drink of water.

Sarah spoke first, "Tell us what happened, Lisa."

"I saw a man, a bad man, and I had a flash. Momma, it wasn't like the ones I had before at Headquarters. He was doing things to people. With a knife."

Chuck took Lisa's hand, then turned his face to his wife, saying, "I need to see," and when Sarah nodded mutely, he instructed Lisa, "Tell me a name or some detail, Lisa, so I can flash too."

In a small voice, Lisa said, "Manfred Klaus," and watched with fear in her eyes as her father's eyelids fluttered and his facial muscles went slack.

After a short time, Chuck's eyes refocused and he shook his head a bit to clear it before directing a soothing smile at Lisa and saying, "It's okay, baby. He was a very bad man once but not anymore. And you've been a big help in identifying him. He wouldn't have hurt you or CJ or John or Gaby, and we're going to go right now and tell Auntie Diane about him so we can find out what she wants us to do."

Chuck tucked the covers around his daughter and leaned down to give her a kiss, saying, "You sleep now and later on, when you're feeling better, we'll talk about this some more, okay?"

He rose to make way for Sarah and then Casey, who added their kisses to Chuck's, then they left the room, closing the door to the voice of a tired little girl whispering, "I did help, didn't I, daddy?"

* * *

General Beckman outlined the mission to the group of four agents in her usual clipped tones.

"Manfred Klaus was in protective custody at a safe house awaiting transport to another safe house location when Lisa spotted him. Something obviously spooked him and drove him out into the open. And since we need him to testify in court next week, well, Agents, you know what you have to do."

Chuck replied tersely with, "Yes, General," but before the woman could switch off, he cut in with, "General, my little girl flashed on this man and I saw what the flash was. It's been very traumatic for her to see the grisly things that he has done, and we're all concerned for her."

General Beckman's features softened to a look of true compassion. She leaned closer to the camera, and for the first time since Chuck had known her, she looked her real age.

"Yes, Chuck, Sarah, and I'm truly sorry about that. You know we assumed that Lisa would never run into this kind of thing at home and would be in a controlled environment at school. Please believe me when I say I'm as upset about it as you are. But please also understand that this just goes to prove how useful a second Mobile Intersect could be."

She paused for a moment to let her apology take hold.

"Now go out there and bring this man in, Team Bartowski. The sooner he's back in our custody, the better."

* * *

Casey and Ilsa crouched behind a low wall, out of sight of the five men who were holding Manfred Klaus inside the warehouse a hundred or so feet away. Ilsa jabbed Casey in the back with her finger and hissed, "Look, the door's opening. Shoot them, already."

Casey reached a hand around his back to shoo his wife away.

"Stop poking," he hissed back, "You'll throw off my aim."

"Hurry!" Ilsa urged. "I have to pee!"

"Well, just hold it. I don't have a clear sightline on all of them yet. The general might not be too happy if I shot the government's star witness in an international terrorist case."

"Casey," Ilsa said, clearly enunciating each word through clenched teeth, "I am pregnant and I have to pee _RIGHT NOW!_"

Casey turned his head around and looked at his wife's stern expression with his eyebrows raised. When she began to smile and nodded her head a couple of times, he turned back around, put his eye to the rifle's sight, and squeezed off five shots in quick succession, felling his targets one by one so quickly that the first man still hadn't hit the ground by the time the fifth bullet had met its mark.

Lowering the rifle and putting the safety on, Casey, smiling tenderly now, said, "Well, then let's just find you and our baby a washroom, shall we?"

* * *

"Daddy, do you see awful things like that all the time when you flash?"

"Sometimes, Lisa."

"Do you get scared too?"

"Sometimes."

"What do you do when you get scared?"

"Well, I've got you and John and CJ to help cheer me up. And Uncle Johnny and Auntie Ilsa are always there to help. And your momma, of course. I can never be scared for too long if your momma's around."

"Daddy, I know what you mean. Momma can beat up any bad guy and then make your favorite cookies and give you a hug."

"Yes, she can, little one."

"We're not like other families, are we, daddy?"

"What do you mean, Lisa?"

"I mean like most other families in the world. They don't have to worry about catching criminals, do they?"

"No, they don't, but we're like other families in every other way. We look out for each other and love each other the same way as other families."

"I guess. Daddy?"

"Hmmm?"

"I wouldn't ever want to be in another family. And I'm not sorry I got the Intersect in my head. You tell momma that too because I know she's worried about me. I'm growing up now and I'll learn how to use it to help you keep everyone safe. I'll be all right because even when we're away at school, I know you'll all still be here for me in case I have any problems."

"That's right, Lisa, that's right, your family will always be here for you."


	48. Husbands and Wives

Sarah's worried frown was the first thing Chuck saw when he returned to the kitchen.

"How is Lisa? Is she going to be all right?" Sarah asked, pausing in her self-appointed task of making coffee and arranging cake slices for herself, her husband and their friends and co-workers Casey and Ilsa.

"I think she'll be fine," Chuck replied. "We always knew at some point she'd flash on something really bad. I just hoped it wouldn't happen this soon, that's all."

"I think that's what we all hoped," Casey echoed.

The big man then looked at his wife, who had been sitting quietly, hands folded in her lap – well, they were actually clenched in her lap – and added, "Shall we?"

Nodding vigorously, Ilsa brought her hands up to the tabletop and pushed the cup of coffee that Sarah had just placed in front of her towards the center of the table. Then, her voice full of barely contained excitement, she announced, "I'm pregnant."

* * *

Chuck was a bit scared. He never thought he'd see anything like it in his life, but there it was, happening right in front of his eyes. His normally controlled and usually serious wife had gone completely loopy.

Immediately after Ilsa's announcement, Sarah froze for a moment, her eyes widening as comprehension dawned. Not so much rising from her chair as propelling herself from it, she launched herself at Ilsa, who was just as much taken aback as Chuck and Casey by this unexpected reaction.

Sarah lifted Ilsa from her chair by the elbows and, squealing incoherently, began to dance her friend in circles in a merry polka.

"Sarah, Sarah, put me down!" Ilsa finally gasped, winded from the surprise, the frantic jumping around, and the overwhelming joy radiating from Sarah's eyes and face.

* * *

The men knew when they were no longer wanted. They retired to the living room at the first sign that Sarah and Ilsa's conversation was beginning to turn towards detailed information-sharing about female plumbing considerations.

As Casey observed to Chuck after they had seated themselves comfortably, each with a large measure of Johnny Walker Black Label, "There are just some things, Bartowski, that men do not need to know," which statement Chuck seconded with a hearty, "Hear, hear," and a clink of his glass against Casey's before they sucked back healthy drafts in an unspoken toast to themselves as men, their lovely wives, and Casey's progeny.

* * *

"Ow!" Chuck exclaimed to the darkness.

"Well, move your leg, then," Sarah instructed impatiently before snuggling closer to her husband and expelling a long sigh of satisfaction.

Even after almost fourteen years of married life, it still took Sarah by surprise, at it was doing at this moment, that something so ordinary, so routine, so everyday as getting into the same bed in the same house in the same placid subdivision every night with the same man could send shivers up her spine and pull her mouth into a smile of pure contentment.

Of course, Sarah didn't exactly lead the life of a typical wife and mother, what with the ongoing spy missions to keep her on her toes, but other than that –

"Chuck," she asked, a slight tremble in her voice, "do you ever think about how things might have turned out if we hadn't met? If you hadn't become involved in the spy world?"

"Yep. Every day."

Sarah was unprepared for this answer and the way it was delivered, so quickly and decisively, without a waver of doubt, and the hot sting of tears that threatened to spill over and wet Chuck's shirt meant that it was going to be difficult to hide from him how hurt and panicked she felt at his unexpected declaration.

After waiting for a few seconds to get herself under control, Sarah asked in a very tiny voice, "You do?"

Apparently Chuck was already beginning to drift off to sleep, since he had to make an effort to stir himself to answer, but when he did, his slow, sleepy words now had the opposite effect on his wife, who felt just a little silly for her unaccustomed lack of confidence and trust in Chuck's love for her.

"Every day, Sarah, I remind myself what my life would have been like without you and everything you are. I think of how empty and meaningless and cold it would have been, how lonely I'd feel without you and the kids and our friends. How purposeless my life would have been if I hadn't become a spy, if you hadn't led me into that life.

"I think of all those things for just a moment. And then I think of all the things I do have and that I'm grateful for because we met. I think about the life we're leading together, the life we've made together, and the time that's still to come. Together."

As Chuck's last words wound down and faded into the dark shadows, Sarah found she was unable to speak, she was so happy. She shifted suddenly and burrowed her chin into Chuck's shoulder by way of a reply, to which he responded with a groggy, "What?" and pulled her more tightly to himself, changing her smile into a grin as he did so, because now it was Sarah's turn to exclaim.

"Ooph!" she grunted, "Isn't that close enough yet?"

"Never close enough," her husband replied, "not when you smell so nice."

"What do I smell like now, flowers?" Sarah asked, thinking of the lilac moisturizing cream she had applied to her hands after washing the dishes earlier in the evening.

"Nope, gunpowder residue, here, and here, and here. And here. Very sexy," replied Chuck, and with each repetition of "here," he tenderly kissed a different spot on Sarah's head. Raising her chin with a finger, he ran his thumb over her lips before kissing them lightly, then said, his voice conveying deep and heartfelt emotion, "But here, this part right here, this tastes like my best friend."


	49. Past Perfect

CJ and John stood side-by-side and looked at their childhood bedroom. The walls that had been covered with posters of sports heroes and rock bands and some of CJ's larger drawings were now bare. Any of their toys and games they weren't taking to their new school were packed away in boxes to be stored, and anything they no longer wanted or needed had been bundled up to be distributed to local charities.

Their mother had argued against cleaning out their bedroom completely, but both boys seemed to know instinctively that this was their first concrete step towards manhood and neither intended to dwell too much on the past.

"It's okay, momma," CJ had said in an effort to comfort his mother, "we'll be back for a holiday in a few months."

"Yeah, momma," John added, coming up behind his mother and encircling her waist with the long, gangly arms of a thirteen year old boy, "we'll be back so soon you won't even miss us."

Sarah had tried her best to smile but she was finding it a bit difficult when she realized that John had to bend his neck downwards ever so slightly to rest his head on her shoulder. Her boys really were growing up in every sense.

* * *

The other female member of the Bartowski family was also finding it a bit difficult to let go of the past.

Lisa sat in the middle of her bedroom floor surrounded by some of her most cherished possessions. She had already packed her clothes and the few other things that she had deemed essential, such as her first teddy bear and the box set of ten seasons of "Glee" that her parents had surprised her with for her last birthday. Well, it was a complete set of the musical numbers from "Glee," at any rate.

Lisa had heard gossip from some older girls at school about the rest of the show and had solemnly agreed with her parents to wait until she was older before watching the entire program.

"Much older," Uncle Johnny had growled, but his frown turned into a sunny smile when his goddaughter assured him with a hug and a kiss that she would wait.

Anyway, with all of the necessities and a few other things stowed away and ready to be packed into the car to go to the airport, Lisa was taking a few self-indulgent moments to say goodbye to her other things, her room, this house and what was soon to be her old life.

Lisa thought back to when she could first remember. It was just a series of impressions but they were still overwhelming ones, and she smiled at the warm feeling these memories generated.

Soft arms that held her gently but firmly, rhythmic murmurs and sparkling blue eyes over a bright smile. The smell of fresh soap and a tinkling laugh. Then brown eyes and joyous laughter and hands that encouraged her to move around and test her limits. These two were momma and daddy, that much was obvious. Then a different set of light and dark heads carrying different and distinctive smells – her brothers. Tickling and teasing from Light-hair, cuddling and long, transfixing gazes from Dark-hair.

The last earliest memory was of a voice that boomed with pleasure before deep blue eyes and a smile of wonder swam into view. Being grasped by hands too big to hold in her own and swung way up into the air before coming to settle against a smell of burnt leaves and alcohol and sometimes musky sweat. The unique olfactory hallmarks of her Uncle Johnny.

Lisa reviewed each image and sensation as if it were brand new, savoring the comfort it gave her knowing that these were the people who loved her, who still loved her and cared about what happened to her. Those who would be there for her whenever she needed them. Those she loved.

Unreeling her short life as though she were watching a film, Lisa remembered picnics and family trips to the beach, meals around the dining room table, her first unfamiliar days at school, and Sunday mornings playing with her brothers under a makeshift tent slung between their beds. Reading a book with Flash curled in her lap, absently scratching his ear when he nuzzled her arm for attention.

There were uncomfortable memories as well. The sting of guilt after some minor wrongdoing followed by the purification of confession, the usual childhood disappointments of being misunderstood or underestimated or being held back when she wanted to soar with the older children.

And that's where things were about to be different. Lisa was finally going to be with the older children, treated the same way they were, asked to do the same things and shoulder the same responsibilities.

A sudden spasm of doubt washed over the young girl. They all had so much confidence in her, her mother and father, Uncle Johnny, her brothers, even Auntie Diane. Would having the Intersect be enough? Would she be able to live up to all this potential she kept hearing she was supposed to have?

Just then, as Lisa was starting to succumb to her fears, CJ and John tapped lightly at her door before coming in and sitting on the floor, one on either side of her.

"You okay, sis?" CJ inquired, running a soothing palm over her shoulders.

"Yeah, Lisa, you look sad," John observed, taking her hand in his and stooping his head down a bit to try to see her eyes, which were fixed firmly on the floor.

"I am, a bit," Lisa whispered. She figured if she ignored the tear that was beginning to roll down her cheek that her brothers might not notice it, but they were too close and too attuned to her melancholy mood not to understand that their little sister was struggling with the changes they were all facing.

"Scared too, huh?" CJ added along with a short sideways hug.

"How did you know?" Lisa inquired, looking up now as she wiped her eyes with the back of one hand and sniffled slightly.

"'Cause we're scared too," John clarified brightly in a way that Lisa would never have recognized as anything but self-confident.

"But you're all packed and ready to go. Look at me. I can't seem to finish here and who knows what's going to happen? What if the Intersect doesn't work? What if the new school is too hard? What if I'm homesick or the teachers are mean? Or the other kids are mean?"

"Well," CJ stated in a philosophical tone, "we can't know what's going to happen until it happens so what's the point of worrying ahead of time?"

"Yeah," John continued, giving Lisa's hand a tight squeeze between both of his, "and whatever happens, we'll be there and we'll all figure it out, so you're covered, Lisa."

A small smile began to form on Lisa's tear-streaked face when she noticed that her brothers had exchanged a fleeting glance over top of her head, a look that meant they had formed a plan without even having discussed it using some type of twin psychic communication, and she wondered what they were about to do.

As if they had read their sister's earlier thoughts, they each lightly grasped one of her wrists in a hand, then used the other to support her underneath that arm. Before she could squirm from the tickling sensation, they stood up abruptly but smoothly and hoisted her into the air, running from the room in a coordinated gait and down the stairs to the living room, all the while making jet engine or bird noises.

Lisa's dark mood was gone. This was a game her brothers used to play with her years before, sneaking up from behind to give her a surprise flight. But they had gotten out of the habit, then forgotten about it and, eventually, so had Lisa. Now, flying through the air once again with her brothers at her side, Lisa added this sensation to her list of good memories from her past and felt a sense of security and self-confidence return and settle in her abdomen somewhere around her solar plexus.

Chuck and Sarah, who were sitting in the living room along with Casey and Ilsa, were amused by the lively activity that was bursting all around them. CJ and John swooped Lisa through the room, being careful not to knock anything over, and when they finally set her down, beaming, Sarah inquired, "You haven't done that for years. What's the occasion?"

"Well, momma," Lisa explained while still trying to catch her breath, "CJ and John were just showing me that they'll be there for me at school and I'll be able to depend on them, just like when they used to fly me around. I know they'd never let me fall."

Lisa put an arm around her brothers' waists and smiled at the assembled adults before adding, "So now I know when I'm at school, I'll have two of the best wingmen in the world right there with me."

The girl's expression changed to one of bewilderment when the four adults and her brothers variously began to bark with laughter, roll eyes, and groan at this observation, and she removed her arms from her brothers, jammed her fists onto her hips, and demanded, "Will somebody please explain to me why that's funny?"


	50. Spy Family Life is Good

"Chuck, honey," Sarah called from the kitchen, "what do you want for lunch?"

Chuck put his still-open book face-down on the end table and removed his reading glasses. He flipped the arms away from himself so the lenses pointed towards the floor and sighed as he contemplated them for a moment. They were just another example of physical proof that time was catching up with the Intersect.

After snapping the arms closed and placing the glasses next to his book, Chuck stood and walked to the kitchen door. A smile creased the corners of his eyes as he paused to watch his wife at work there, and even though he knew that she was aware of his presence, she continued chopping a large green pepper with deadly precision and the finesse of someone who had lots of experience handling large, intimidating blades.

"Is a frittata okay?" Sarah inquired, pausing in her work, knife poised and ready to begin an assault on several onions that had already been peeled and sat awaiting the same fate as the pepper.

"Of course it is, Sarah," replied Chuck. "You know how I love egg-based dishes. But why are you cutting up so much food?"

Sarah stopped once more, mid-slice, and slowly lowered the knife.

"I got carried away again, didn't I? I just can't seem to get used to the house being so empty."

Chuck's wry grin mirrored his wife's as he approached. Circling her waist with his arms, he then stooped down slightly and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Want me to see if Casey and Ilsa and Vasily can come over to help us eat it?"

"Oh, Chuck, would you?" Sarah's excitement and relief was palpable to her husband. "Only we have them here so often. I thought you might be tired of having them over again so soon."

Sarah put the knife down on the counter and turned in Chuck's embrace, raising her arms into the air as she did so. Clasping her hands behind his neck, she searched his eyes with a worried frown, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

Chuckling with affection at her concern, Chuck pulled Sarah tightly to him and spoke into her ear.

"Sarah, my love, you should have people around you all the time. After all, why should I be the only one fortunate enough to enjoy your company?"

After a moment's silence during which Chuck inhaled his wife's heady scent, a mixture of floral shampoo, vanilla and onions, he added, "Besides, with any luck, it won't be long until we're so busy with a new baby there won't be time for anything else. But that's a discussion we can have tonight. Without words. In our bedroom. Alone."

After a brief but tender kiss, Chuck reluctantly released Sarah so she could go back to her chopping and he could activate the communications function on his wristwatch.

"Casey. Lunch. 1200 hours," he barked into the device in a commanding tone.

A gruff, familiar voice replied, "A-OK, Intersect. Sure you and the little woman will be finished making out in the kitchen by then?"

"Casey!" Chuck cried into his watch, scandalized. "Have you been spy –"

"Of course, moron," came the forthright reply. "I am a spy, after all. New high-powered binoculars. I'll bring them over when we come for lunch. Tell Walker she's got a piece of green pepper just below her left ear."

Impressed in spite of himself, Chuck responded with "Will do," and terminated the transmission.

He turned back to Sarah, who had heard everything the two men had said. She smiled broadly and canted her head to the right, exposing her neck to Chuck, who spotted a small green fragment stuck just where Casey had said it would be, and he leaned down to kiss it from her warm and flushed skin.

"Mmm, frittata," he moaned as he straightened again, causing Sarah to laugh, throwing her head back a bit as she did so. Since this motion also made her raise her knife hand a bit and the sharp blade along with it, Chuck decided that it would be prudent to take a step back and give Sarah some room.

Joining with his wife in her preparations for lunch in the company of their neighbors, Chuck pulled plates and cutlery from cupboards and drawers, but not before whispering three simple words to Sarah that were full of anticipation and promise.

"Later, my love."

* * *

While the frittata baked in the oven, Chuck and Sarah sat on either side of the kitchen table facing each other. As though there had been some silent signal, they extended their arms over the surface, interlaced their fingers and looked into each other's eyes. It was a look of peaceful calm they exchanged, one full of happiness and contentment, assured self-awareness and strong, deeply felt love.

"Well, it certainly has been an interesting couple of years," Chuck said, a twinkle in his eyes as Sarah's smile widened at the observation.

"You can say that again," she countered, a hint of a sigh in her voice.

"Well, it certainly has been an interesting –"

"Chuck!"

Sarah's bright laughter washed over the two of them and mixed with her husband's hearty guffaws, rendering them both speechless while they shared the old-as-the-hills joke that was still so typical of the nerd-turned-spy named Charles Irving Bartowski.

"What's so funny, guys?" Ilsa asked as she entered the kitchen through the mud room, followed closely by Vasily and Casey, and walked over to the chair beside Sarah's.

"Nothing, really," Sarah replied while wiping tears of laughter from her cheek. "Just Chuck's adorable sense of humor that gets me every time, even though it shouldn't."

"Yeah, he gets me every time too," grunted Casey with a deadpan stare at his friend and neighbor while looking as far from amused as it was possible for anybody to be.

"I think you are joking, no?" Vasily observed as he lowered himself gingerly onto a chair. "You two boys are close, like brothers. I can see."

"Of course they are, papa," assured Ilsa.

When Ilsa made a motion to pull her chair out, she gave a startled squeak instead when Casey hurried around behind her to take over the process and make sure his pregnant wife was safe and seated comfortably. After the NSA agent had seated himself, he placed the compact but powerful binoculars on the table in front of Chuck, who was immediately absorbed by the technology and poked and prodded at the device while posing a steady stream of questions for Casey and Vasily.

Sarah, meanwhile, motioned for everyone to remain seated after the oven timer rang, and she got up to serve their lunch, chatting happily with Ilsa over the noise the men were making, the topics ranging from pregnancy to housekeeping to firearms to covert ops in a matter of minutes.

Chuck suddenly fell silent during this happy and convivial gathering and, as he observed the animated faces and listened to the chatter around him, he thought to himself with the quiet satisfaction of a man fulfilled that spy family life certainly was good.


End file.
